


The sun and the moon

by elenatria



Series: Thorki [12]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Angst, Bottom Thor, Drama, Fluff, Guilt, Jealousy, Lady Loki, Loki's POV, M/M, Neil Gaiman - Freeform, Norse Mythology - Freeform, Pining, Rimming, Sibling Rivalry, Slow Burn, Smut, Telepathic Sex, Thorki - Freeform, Thorki Big Bang, fantasies, long fic, nibelungen, power bottom loki, thor and loki sharing a bath, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-24 03:32:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 39,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16632092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenatria/pseuds/elenatria
Summary: Loki, the young prince of Asgard and Odin's second son, can't forget the night he intruded his brother's mind and witnessed his lewd dream. Jealousy, loneliness and Thor's constant flirting keep taunting him.How long before their father's lies and Thor's denial tear the brothers apart?





	1. The Hall of Invocations

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-THOR AU.  
> Follow up to [Perchance to Dream](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12752328/)  
> whose events are referenced here.
> 
> I wrote the first chapters of this fic back in 2013 during The Dark World era.  
> Fast forward to 2017-2018 when the awesomeness of Ragnarok and the Thorki Big Bang mods helped me finish it.  
> Big thank you to my beta, Sircarolyn for taking the time to work with me, and to Yaynx for offering her unique art.
> 
>  
> 
> [My tumblr](http://elenatria.tumblr.com/)  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki is trying to teach Thor some magic but Thor finds it hard to concentrate.

The vast hall, peaceful and sober, was lit by a multitude of flickering candles casting shadows over the columns, bringing them to life like silent dancers on the walls. The driftwood seats with the snake engravings were empty and the heavy oak door was keeping out the racket from the palace.

The young princes sat on the marble floor cross-legged facing each other with eyes closed; they took slow breaths, their hands resting on their knees, knowing that this time of the afternoon no one would disrupt their game. The Invocations were done for the day.

The prince with the short raven hair was the first to break the silence. “Remember, don’t cheat. The trick won’t work unless you keep your eyes closed and concentrate on my voice.”

“A _trick?”_ demanded the heir to the throne opening one doubting eye to observe his brother. “I thought this time you were going to use real magic, Loki, I thought this is why we’re hiding.”

Loki didn’t open his eyes. “Tricks _are_ magic,” he muttered patiently. “If you don’t believe in them, if you don’t concentrate, they don’t work.”

“Who told you that?” Thor asked. “Mother? Does father know what Frigga teaches you when he’s away? Do the Shadow Elders know?”

“It is written,” Loki answered calmly opening his eyes. “In Gylfaginning.”

“The _Cursed Verses?”_ said Thor with a suspicious half smile. “That’s nonsense, no one has ever read that book. No one has ever _seen_ it.”

“Well I did.”

Thor guffawed. “You did not or you would have been burnt to a crisp by the Destroyer. Father himself locked it in the Vault when he declared war against the Frost Giants.”

“That brainless machine taking initiatives and burning the royal family itself if necessary,” Loki chuckled, “what a story to make impressionable young princes eat their porridge and keep them away from the Vault. I’m sorry to disappoint you, brother, but I _have_ read that book,” he taunted Thor with a boastful grin.

“Liar,” Thor mumbled glaring at him, a playful glint flashing through his eyes. “I don’t care how strong you say your magic is, I bet even you could never trick the Destroyer and sneak into the Vault unharmed.”

Loki considered Thor’s face as he tried for a brief moment to be genuinely annoyed at him. Thor had always been a vain and proud boy, often crude and with horrible taste in jokes, but for all his arrogance the trickster could never really hate his dear brother who seemed to grow more beautiful each day. His jaw was stronger now, his hair longer, falling on his shoulders like rays of sunshine caressing a wheat field.

“Well…” Loki began, “I must admit I read _The Vala’s Prophecy,_ not the whole book, but… that prophecy is still the most substantial part of _Gylfaginning_.

“Ah,” Thor smothered a laugh, _“of course._ Nursery rhymes - abridged and harmless. The only part that wasn’t censored during the war, right? Well how do you know, I know some of it too!”

He cleared his throat and puffed up with hands placed on both knees, preparing to recite.

_“Audhumbla the cow licked cold stones to get fed_

_and her tongue turned the frost into skin._

_The pale skin became man, and the man was named Bure_

_And he drew all his strength from within.”_

He slapped his thighs and doubled over as the hall resounded with his distinctive laugh.

“I see Nan Hilde’s lullabies rubbed off on you too,” Loki teased, the ghost of a smile flitting over his lips **.** “I’m surprised you even remember _The Three Sons of the Ale Maker_ , she used to practically chain you to your chair to teach you just the first four stanzas.”

“Seriously, Loki?” Thor said. “All those poems about… cows feeding on frost and the milk from their teats forming the Nine Realms, I mean honestly, you learned magic from _that?”_

 _“The Vala’s Prophecy_ is far more than nursery rhymes,” Loki huffed. “You never even bothered to read the whole book so I doubt you’re qualified to judge those silly ‘rhymes’, dear brother.”

Thor cocked a brow honouring him with a bored smile; he didn’t have to speak, Loki could feel the resentment in the air, so thick he could cut it with a knife.

 “There’s nothing in those dusty books you waste your time on that can surpass the knowledge you can acquire through living life itself,” he gloated, “in the battlefield or in a woman’s bed.”

“You sound like Fandral now,” Loki shook his head.

Thor’s booming laughter echoed through the marble pillars. The Norns knew he could never accept criticism, not even from his beloved brother, his own flesh and blood.

“Let’s get on with it,” he chirped impatiently closing his eyes again.

Loki took a deep breath. “Listen to my voice,” he whispered softly, “don’t think of anything else. Picture something, anything. Something you really want to happen.”

Thor knitted his brows trying to concentrate on Loki’s request.

“Now I want you to project that image to me with as much intensity as you can,” Loki continued.

Thor kept his eyes closed as several seconds dragged by in total silence.

“So?” he asked opening one eye. “What do you see?”

“I see… I see a figure,” Loki answered, his eyes firmly shut, his voice coloured by a tint of disappointment. “A… tall slender figure on the Rainbow Bridge. Long black hair, very beautiful. Man or woman… I cannot tell. They are armed with daggers and ready to storm into battle on your command. They would throw themselves into the fire if you asked them to, into… eternal flames.” He paused, a wrinkle breaking between his brows. “Thor, what are you doing, are you peeking?”

Thor was looking all around him, searching in the half-light for something that wasn’t there.

“I’m trying to figure out if you’ve summoned little Seers flying around my head,” he said. “Is this your new jape, Loki? Is this why you told me to close my eyes, so I wouldn’t see them? Those flying bastards are not allowed anywhere near me, you know that, I get swollen if I get stung.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” Loki rolled his eyes. “That was just your excuse to not follow father to mount Preikestolen when he asked you to accompany him a few weeks ago. Everyone knows the Seers don’t sting, all they do is extract silver strings of thought out of your mind and feed on them.”

“Exactly, they feed on them, as if this palace doesn’t have enough spies already,” Thor complained. “I don’t want any disgusting insect feeding on my thoughts, I don’t know who they might reveal them to and I only trust you. Although sometimes I wonder if I should...”

“They’re not insects and they’re not spies and you _know_ that…” Loki reprimanded him. “They’re the souls of our dead prophets and seiðmenn and they use our thoughts to-”

He paused.

“To make _dreams_.”

He wished he didn’t have to talk about it, the wound was still fresh. He and Thor used to share their dreams whenever they woke up, even after the Allfather put them in separate bedchambers when they reached adolescence, but after secretly intruding Thor’s mind the subject was hurting him. Dreams were now a forbidden realm. As for Thor, he had lost all will to share them with his brother ever since that night.

Loki wondered if Thor remembered his own dream of the two of them touching and pleasuring each other in ways brothers weren’t supposed to. In the filthiest, most delightful of ways.

In a secret golden room filled with sticky fingers and mouths dribbling with divine semen, knuckles slipping inch by inch inside each other’s depth, whispers and sighs and sweet moans meant to be heard only by trust-worthy brotherly ears.

Loki recalled the night he had spent in his brother’s bed one year ago, the first and last time he attempted reading his mind. He changed that night, something wild and feverish and angry had woken within him.

 “Without the Seers we wouldn’t be able to dream, you know that,” he said as he envisioned himself naked on his knees sucking the life out of Thor, hungrily gulping down his cum as if it was mother’s milk to him. As if his own life was nothing, a meaningless moment in time without that hard throbbing girth stretching his mouth, greedily exploring his depths with each probe, yearning for his slick throat, covering his tongue, his lips, his whole face with its hot white essence.

 “And no, I wasn’t using them to read your thoughts,” Loki added as he cleared his throat pushing away the salacious thought. “This trick works, at least among members of the same family who… Who _live_ together.”

“So there _are_ limits to your ability,” Thor teased, “how convenient.”

“You don’t believe me?” Loki asked, a tint of irate red spreading across his cheeks. “Try reading me, you’ll see I wasn’t lying. I will project an image to you.”

Thor closed his eyes trying to concentrate, unable to deny his little brother anything no matter how tedious or irrational it sounded.

“Did you see it?” Loki murmured after a few moments.

“No,” Thor replied. “Nothing.”

The blonde prince exhaled grudgingly and grimaced feigning a massive headache. He sighed again and moved himself to a more comfortable position as his legs got numb on the cold floor.

“I think you should give me your hands,” Loki suggested calmly.

“My hands?” wondered Thor, annoyed that his brain couldn’t achieve what his brother could do so effortlessly.

“This is how we did it with mother,” Loki explained turning his palms upwards. “Physical contact helps you concentrate and read someone’s mind, helps you learn. It’s called kinesthesia and mother said it has helped many people who couldn’t focus. Perhaps it could help you too.”

Thor shrugged, closed his eyes again and softly placed his open palms on Loki’s.

He flinched violently as if struck by lightning.

“By Fenris’ hide,” he panted, “I… I can see you, brother. I can see… a room filled with treasures and weapons. I see… I see our parents looking at us, their eyes filled with pride. You’re standing above me, Loki, waiting. You look different, you- Your hair looks… It looks like blazing _fire._ I glance at you and you smile back, and your face – oh… Your face is a _river_ , and you have the biggest, sweetest smile I’ve ever-”

Loki opened his eyes, bewildered. “Did you really see that?” he muttered hopefully, a shade of pink colouring his cheeks. “It’s not _exactly_ what I was thinking, I was thinking of the throne room but-“

Thor gave him an impish smirk. “Of course not,” he quipped, “I can’t read minds like you.” His quiet sniggering unraveled into a roaring laughter that echoed in the empty hall. “Do you see _me_ sending Seers flying around your head?”

He stood on his feet. The magic was gone.

 “You’re lying,” Loki hissed as he got up, his eyes dark with centuries of piled up anger, his tongue stiff with the familiar taste of betrayal. “You did see that. You saw… You _saw_ me. You’re just not telling.”

“I’m not the one who’s famous for lying, dear brother,” Thor nudged him.

Loki looked away pouting, bitterness hanging at the very edge of his tongue.

Thor patted his shoulder; Loki would have shoved that hand away if his soul wasn’t aching for its warmth.

“Come now,” Thor cooed fixing his brother’s collar. A thumb brushed over Loki’s clenched jaw sweetening its stubbornness. “What difference does it make if I didn’t really see it but… sort of guessed it?”

Loki widened his eyes searching Thor’s face to find the slightest trace of truth, hoping for something that wasn’t there anymore.

_Maybe it never was._

Maybe his overactive imagination had projected his own thoughts to Thor and it was all his doing.

He struck Thor with an unforgiving stare. “It does make a difference,” he insisted pressing his lips tightly together. “We’re in this together, remember? We were supposed to be concentrating and calling the Sacred Spirits of Valhalla, you promised we would finish this.”

“You like to call them spirits, I call them intuition,” Thor gave a shrug. “It’s the same thing and I don’t see why we should finish this now. Unless you want to finish _me,_ I surely wouldn’t object to that.”

Loki blinked unsure of what he heard. “What?”

Thor winked at him. “Just a jest, dear brother.” He chuckled casually clapping his hands. “Come! We have places to be.”

_Just a jest._

You fucking.

_Idiot._

Loki clenched his fists. He could frown at Thor forever for making such jokes, until the moons of Asgard went out one by one like used candles, until the sun turned as cold as the top of Preikestolen and as lifeless as the rocks of the desert beyond the mountains where days were endless and night never came.

“You’re mad at me?” Thor pouted as he rested his hands on Loki’s shoulders and caressed the nape of his neck, making his hairs stand and his groin tighten. “Don’t be,” he said with soft, pleading eyes. “You know I can never stay mad at _you_ for too long.”

“You have no reason to be mad at me, brother…” Loki said through gritted teeth avoiding his gaze. “I don’t remember ever giving you a good reason to be mad at me.”

_Whereas I have all the reasons in the world._

“Whereas you have a _world_ of reasons to be mad at me, isn’t that right?” Thor joked without taking his hands off Loki’s shoulders, squeezing them gently, kneading them with his fingers.

Loki’s heart missed a beat as he heard his very thoughts coming out of Thor’s mouth.

_He did lie. He can read my mind after all. Maybe I just created a connection between us, maybe-_

Thor curled his lip in the kindest of smiles, in the most candid of smirks. “See? I can read your thoughts as well, brother, but I don’t need magic tricks and Seers to know how you feel.” His voice was warm and deep and velvety and it made Loki’s chest burn with longing.

But the god of mischief was determined to resist; determined to make him listen, to render him deaf with his silent screams.

_Then read my mind, damn you._

_READ IT._

“So be it…” he muttered forcing a smile, postponing his mental screams for another day. “Promise me that next time you’ll try harder.”

No screams, no confession. Just a mask of forgiveness and frivolous joy.

Thor laughed as he moved towards the exit. “Come, brother,” he urged him having already forgotten about his promise. “We’re late for dinner.”


	2. Snowball Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snowball fights are a rare sight in the eternally sunny Asgard.  
> So are two brothers straddling each other.

The extreme summer heat was making everyone in the courtyard drowsy. Huge blocks of ice were transported from Jotunheim through the Bifrost almost every day but even they weren’t enough to reduce the temperature in the whole palace.

The two princes and their friends were playing a new game, Thor was using his hammer to splinter the ice and throw snow balls in the middle of what seemed to be an endless summer noon. Frigga would insist that it wasn’t right to waste in front of their subjects the expensive ice that Asgardian soldiers had carried from the Frost Giants’ realm, putting themselves in danger for the mere pleasure of the spoiled prince and his friends.

But Thor had better things to do than listen to his mother.

Huginn and Muninn, Odin’s faithful ravens, were resting on the branches of a nearby willow tree serving as the king’s all-seeing spies until Thor threw snowballs at them chasing them away.

Loki was sitting in a safe distance from the noisy crowd laughing, his long legs sprawled out on the grass. His brother was shoving handfuls of crushed ice down Lady Sif’s cleavage making her eyes widen in shock as she tried not to squeal. The other girls fought back with fresh snowballs and suddenly the robust prince’s golden mane was covered in tiny snowflakes. The frost slid down his naked chest and abs as he tried in vain to shake off the shock.

“Loki!” he called out thrusting his fists around. “Come here, the girls are beating us!”

“I gather you’ll best them even without my help,” Loki laughed.

“You’re giving up on me?” Thor complained. “At the very moment of my defeat? You _are_ a craven.” He grabbed a snowball as big as a rock and hurled it at Loki. “Get him!” he ordered his companions.

Loki had no time to escape; Thor tackled him around the waist sending them both tumbling on the ground and showered him with crushed ice. They wrestled a bit until Thor managed to straddle him. Grunting and puffing he trapped Loki’s ribs between his mighty thighs shoving his hand inside his brother's green tunic to push more snow down his lithely-muscled chest.

Loki didn’t scream as Thor expected, he didn’t react to the frost. His body went rigid only when he felt his brother’s fingers searching his skin, a random gesture at best. Until Thor left no room for doubt finding Loki's nipple and pinching it slowly, purposely. The twist was calm and calculated and torturously delicious as if Thor was expecting a reaction, a flutter of the eyelids, a lick of the lips.

An invitation for more.

A barely audible, trembling sigh escaped Loki’s watering mouth to which Thor hummed in approval biting down his lip. Loki grabbed his forearm with both hands in what seemed to be a move to stop him when all he did was keep Thor’s fingers on his nipples for as long as appearances allowed.

“Harder…” he mouthed as he stared into glazed blue eyes making Thor’s cock give a naughty little twitch against his groin. They still had a few more seconds before people noticed them.

Loki slid a cautious hand around Thor’s thigh, his tongue darting out to moisten dry lips, his ears ringing as the two of them practically made out in front of Thor’s friends. Not letting go of his brother’s forearm he spread his legs just enough to let Thor’s hips sink between his thighs, welcoming his weight with little pelvic jerks as delicious friction made the fabric between them almost dissolve. Thor smiled back, tucked a strand of wet hair behind his ear and rubbed his hips possessively over Loki’s groin, like a conqueror marking his territory with sweat and hardness.

Loki wondered how far they’d go if they weren’t surrounded by people, if Thor’s girls weren’t waiting for their hero and lover for a night to be done playing with his little brother. A smug smile formed on his lips. He wrapped another hesitant hand around his brother’s hip. No one noticed Thor’s wide grin as he rode his brother on the grass, no one knew of their swollen suffocating balls rubbing through the cloth with subtle, barely noticeable thrusts. To them that was just Thor’s gesture of domination over his baby brother, a move that had remained unchanged since childhood. Thor was just Thor, playing boyish games whenever he pleased, wherever he pleased.

The god of thunder was still rubbing ice all over his brother, down his sternum, in the back of his tunic, when everyone started throwing snowballs at them making Loki burst into a hearty laughter as he covered his head against the attacks.

Thor sat up brushing away locks of sweaty hair from his forehead. “You’re a traitor,” he said trying to catch his breath.

“I am not!” Loki protested with an offended smile.

“You had sworn to fight by my side whenever I got Frost Giants and hairy ogres and rabid females chasing me, whatever happened to your vow? We sealed our sacred oaths with our own blood that day, that scar on your palm was supposed to remind you that we’re loyal to each other, bound for all eternity.”

Loki stifled a giggle. “I thought you enjoyed the company of all those rabid femal- _uuuh_ those dashing young ladies,” he joked shrugging. “I mean this is what you want, right?”

Thor threw him a vacant glance. “You have no idea what I want, Loki.”

Loki dug into the dirt with his fingers, his heart missing a beat. “What do you want, Thor?” he asked casually squinting against the sun as sweat trickled down his face.

 “Do you remember the cave that father had forbidden us from going when we were children, the cave everyone was talking about?” Thor asked. “In the mountain of the Seven Peaks? The sun almost never shines on that part of Asgard, in the deepest ends of our realm. This is what I want, brother. Nan Hilde had told us this is where springs out the coolest, cleanest water in all of Asgard. I’m done playing with this filthy Jotun ice, I want something as clear as only our glorious homeland can offer.”

Loki glanced around trying to figure out a way to get away from this new “adventure” his reckless brother had come up with but everyone had disappeared leaving him alone, exposed to Thor’s dangerous plans. If he said yes who knows what trouble they’d find themselves in. If he said no Thor’s gaze would darken as if Asgard’s moons had died all at once, like blazing torches going out in one breath.

Loki knew he could never live with that.

“What about Huginn and Muninn?” he reminded Thor. “They’ll be back soon. They’d follow us to the ends of the universe, to the deepest roots of Yggdrasil if father said so, and he’s been spying on us for quite some time now. Ever since your birthday when he had the servants take my bed out of-”

“I’ll mix poppy seeds with their food,” Thor said nonchalantly. “Those feathered rats won’t wake up before we’re back.”

“Messing with Odin’s most faithful servants is a bold deed, brother…” Loki admitted. “A bit too bold, even for me.”

Thor looked deeply into Loki’s eyes, into the depths of his soul. “I don’t care,” he shrugged. “Do you?”

Loki could say no to a thousand things, to a world of temptations, but not to Thor.

Never to Thor.

“Alright,” he agreed hesitantly. “We’re going. Just make sure father won’t find out.”

A broad happy smile spread across Thor’s face. “He won’t.”


	3. The cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki gets a glimpse of Thor's divine nudity.  
> He also gets a first glimpse of his Jotun identity.

They didn’t tell anyone where they were going. They knew the court was full of Shadow spies (Frigga had called them “personal guards” for years) who would tell their father right away, and they knew Odin would make sure to ruin their little adventure before it began.

On their way to the mountain of the Seven Peaks they came across giants and dwarves. A gang of bandits ambushed them; a ragged-looking brute of a dwarf seated on the shoulders of a drooling ogre was their leader. He was screaming orders as his glinting eyes fell on the princes’ luxurious clothing. Seeing that the foolish travelers had no gold with them he demanded they handed their weapons to him, but as soon as Thor grabbed Mjolnir they disappeared - they knew they were no match for the mighty prince of Asgard. If by any chance the gangs of outlaws and renegades that attacked the princes were so cut out of civilization that they didn’t recognize the sons of Odin, their ignorance cost them dearly. Loki always had Thor’s back and would distract with illusions all those who thought the heir to the throne was easy prey.

As the end of the day drew nearer the two brothers grew tired. Until Thor, exhausted and about to give up after walking for hours inside the mountain of the Seven Peaks, saw a faint blue light flickering through the slit of a rock.

“Could it be here?” he wondered hopefully.

He pounded the rock with his hammer. After a few blows he made an opening that let out blue light. Thor pushed himself through the crack and Loki followed unwillingly looking around for awoken ancient spirits that were surely resting inside those rocks.

“Thor,” he whispered, “I think we should go home.”

Thor turned to him without slowing his step. “Don’t tell me you’re not thrilled by all this mystery, brother!” he exclaimed. “Where’s your appetite for adventure?”

Loki took a wary look around him. “Somewhere outside, where the sun shines and the palace is still visible. This place is sacred, Thor, I can feel it in the air,” he warned him. “What if we wake the spirits residing here?”

Thor stopped on his tracks making Loki fall on him.

“Do you see up there?” he pointed upwards. “I think the light is brighter.”

They climbed up the rock and stood in front of the opening where the light was coming from. It took them a lot of huffing and crawling through the chasm before they finally found themselves facing a rocky landscape of unparalleled cerulean beauty. The otherworldly blue light that had lured them there was coming from a luminescent waterfall splashing down from heights lost in the darkness of the cave. The foaming water was forming a lake that shone as if hundreds of sapphires were scattered all over its dark bottom.

Thor guffawed with contentment. He threw Loki a happy glance even if his brother didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm. Without a second thought the blonde god run down the rocky hill and as he reached the shore his boots sank into the silver sand. He shoved the torch he was carrying into the ground, let go of Mjolnir and unbuckled his belt.

“What-what are you doing?...” Loki tried to stop him, his stomach tightening with fear until a stronger feeling took over; burning anticipation.

“Taking a swim,” shrugged Thor. “The water is clear as crystal, nothing like that filthy Jotun ice.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Loki said, panicking. “Can’t you see this eerie light? You don’t know what kinds of creatures live in this waterfall, there could be a nykk in the water or a cave vittra. It’s sacrilege.”

“Nonsense…” mumbled Thor as he removed his chestplate. “You read way too many books, dear brother, way too many legends.”

Loki watched him speechless as Thor tossed away his boots, unable to make a single move to stop him. Thor unlaced his tunic and turned to gaze at Loki’s heavy coat and boots.

“What? You’re not swimming with me?” he asked looking him up and down, his eyes stopping at his brother’s belt.

Loki’s mouth went dry. He stuttered a few incoherent words taking a step back.

“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear…” Thor growled and walked up the shore back to Loki, his moves heavy and predatory. When he reached his brother he began to unbutton his leather jacket and with one rough move he yanked his belt off. Loki trembled like a leaf opening and closing his mouth without managing as much as a word.

“I won’t be the only one getting cursed by the nykk and the vittror, dear brother,” Thor threatened in a hoarse whispery voice removing a lock of blonde hair from his eyes with one hand, pulling Loki’s waistband against his own with the other. “What was it you said? We’re in this together and all that.”

“N-no… No…” Loki stuttered flicking his eyes from Thor’s expression of dark determination to his fast hands that were already unlacing his breeches.

Thor’s fingers brushed over his crotch. His touch was electrifying.

Loki jerked in a frantic attempt to push him away. “I said _NO!!!”_ his scream echoed in the cave.

Overcome with panic he took one step back but the soft thick sand made him trip and fall on his back with a thump. Thor, wearing nothing but his breeches, glanced down on him bewildered, disappointed.

“We’ve swam so many times in unchartered lakes, you and I,” he complained. “I don’t understand what the problem is now…”

Loki was staring back, his big eyes shining with terror, his lips too dry, his tongue too stiff to come up with any sort of excuse. He tried reading his brother’s face and wondered if Thor knew; if he remembered.

With an impatient huff Thor shrugged wasting no more time on his shy little brother. He turned back to the lake letting his breeches slide shamelessly down to his ankles. Loki leaned on his elbow gazing at Thor’s glorious nakedness, at his perfectly formed glutes as he walked down the shore with bold gracious moves.

The reckless prince dived in without a second thought and began swimming.

“You’re making a huge mistake, the water is so refreshing!” he cried out. “It’s a pure source of energy. Bright cold energy springing from the very heart of Asgard!”

Loki stayed frozen exactly where Thor left him. He sat up wrapping his numb arms around his knees and stared in awe at the center of the lake where the violent falling water turned into thick white foam, soaking his brother’s mane, his body now shining like a bronze statue.

With slow moves Loki approached the shore to lie on his chest and dip his fingers into the water. Although he could see Thor’s breath steaming in the frozen air he couldn’t feel the cold. It was almost as if he had dipped his hand in a hot bath.

“The water is warm…” he observed.

“Warm?!” exclaimed Thor as he swam towards him. “It’s freezing! What’s the matter with you?”

Loki looked up. “Then how can you be swimming for so long?” he asked.

Thor shook his head like a dog, wet strings of long hair whipping his face. “I’m the first son of Odin and heir to the throne,” he stated cockily, “frozen water means nothing to me. It shouldn’t scare you either but we all know what a cowardly little cow you are, and cows don’t swim.” And saying that he splashed water all over Loki.

Loki gave him a resigned smile. He couldn’t come up with a reason why the water was warm to him – all he could do was savour Thor’s perfectly formed chest and stomach and feel his mouth water as the magnificent god walked out of the lake smoothing his hair back, his sublime, obscenely big member hanging flaccid between his sculpted thighs.

Loki knew he would give this life and the next just to grab him by the hips, wrap his lips around his soft unsuspecting cock and make it harder with each bold lick, each long swipe of the tongue. To create shackles out of thin air, hold him down, relish the sight of Thor’s massive arms splayed out on the sand helpless, defeated. To see him squirm and order to be released until he realized the only release he would get would be through Loki’s mouth. To offer forced pleasure to his brother’s unwilling hard-on, to hear his surprised cries turn into helpless groans vibrating through his mouth and down his throat as he sucked him mercilessly. He would make him angry, make him moan, make him writhe in his shackles, gasp and arch his back and come with a deep guttural grunt. Make his load spurt out hot and wild until it ran down his chin, until his own chest was covered in hot white strings of spend. The rightful heir to the throne of Asgard - bound, defeated, at his mercy.

With a shake of his head he pushed the sinful thought away.

 

 

***

 

The princes returned to the palace long after midnight only to find Frigga standing in front of the gate, fuming. Huginn and Muninn, who had just woken from their poppy-induced sleep, were making circles in the grass pretending they were more interested in finding crumbs and worms than learning what those Odinsons had been up to. Thor pretended he was listening to the queen’s furious reprimands as he waited impatiently to tell all his friends about the cave with the crystal water.

“Where have you been?” Frigga scolded him, her eyes spitting out flames. “Do you reckon Heimdall would search for you all day long? What was this place you found that could block even the Gatekeeper’s vision?”

“Come, mother,” Thor tried to soothe her, “me and Loki went on a mountain trip, it was so hot down here.”

Lady Sif approached with wary steps but for all her considerate silence she shared the queen’s concern. Thor could almost feel her hazel eyes judging him.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow and you’ve been missing since morning,” Frigga continued. “You picked the wrong day to go on a trip.”

Thor shifted his weight idly, unwilling to give an excuse or an explanation. The queen threw her hands up in the air with a frustrated grunt and left.

Lady Sif chose to linger instead and speak in the lowest of voices. “You made us all worry to death,” she said. “I feared you had fallen into the abyss of Yggdrasil, even Volstagg assumed you had been scorched by the Destroyer trying to steal one of your father's weapons. I punched him for that.”

Thor laughed. “You’re so considerate,” he said gentling his palm over her cheek.  “Maybe next time I’ll take you instead of Loki to accompany me into the wilderness so you won’t have to worry. And I think it was about time a woman became captain of the king’s Einherjar, then you can guard me with your life as much as you please.” He tucked a long black curl behind her ear caressing it with the tips of his fingers. “When I am king your loyalty will not be forgotten, you will be my shadow wherever I go. My _queen.”_

“Are you making a jest of my loyalty?” Sif hissed, her almond eyes throwing daggers, but her smile betrayed her; she had already forgiven him. “Thank the Allfather you’re still alive or I would have killed you myself for making m- For making _us_ worry to death. Your poor mother.”

“Ah yes, my poor poor mother…” Thor winked at her.

 

Loki wasted no more time witnessing their intimacies. He slipped away throwing one last resentful look at the couple. He was bitterly thankful that he was invisible, like he always was when Sif was around.

He rushed into his room and locked the door behind him with such raging force that could have broken any ordinary key. Once more his suspicions were confirmed; he was an expendable companion to Thor. His brother could easily replace him in his next quest for adventure.

For a brief moment, when Thor’s gleaming eyes met with his as he unraveled his plan that morning, when those fingers were fiddling with his buttons and laces trying to rid him of his clothes in the cave, almost convincing him to swim naked with him, Loki knew he was the center of Thor’s attention, the center of his world _._

If only for a split second.

He wondered what would have happened if he had said yes, if he had agreed to swim, if he had let Thor’s curious fingers touch his skin, set him free of his clothes.

Probably nothing.

Thor would have taunted him for his slender body and his lanky insect-like legs, after all Loki still looked like a frail adolescent while Thor was rapidly becoming a man. He would never see him “that way”, let alone touch him. They were brothers and Thor cherished their bond.

Lying on his bed, the god of mischief traced the scar on his palm absent-mindedly. He could never betray Thor’s trust.

_And the dream?_

Loki dismissed the tiny voice in his head. Thor’s dreams meant nothing, he knew siblings had sexual dreams of each other all the time, even siblings of the same sex; it was extreme familiarity that made those nighttime visions manifest, nothing more.

 _Dreams are dreams are dreams,_ he pondered over and over again until he let himself fall asleep after long tormenting hours of staring at the dark ceiling, looking for hope, looking for nothing at all.


	4. The Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor is celebrating his birthday with his friends and lovers - as always.

Thor’s birthday festivities were rich and flamboyant, perfectly fitting the spoiled young heir of the Asgardian throne. The Golden Apples of Idun, necessary for the longevity of the Aesir and Asynjur, were included in almost every dish and came in every shape and size, baked with cinnamon, hazelnuts and honey, fried with pork and onions, roasted in the spit with butter or stuffed in wild boars. Golden trays came rushing from the kitchen heavy with hot and fragrant apple pies or carrying glasses of mead and sparkly apple wine, the sweetest in all the Nine Realms - or so people said. The servants would come and go bearing empty bowls and cups only to hurry back with more delicious treats placed in intricately bordered plates.

Volstagg never had any qualms about the quantities he devoured, especially when the banquet was held by someone as rich as the Allfather; he was determined to taste all twenty three specialties that the palace’s cooks had prepared specifically for the prince’s birthday.

Fandral, on the other hand, who always watched his diet, picked a seat far away from the buffet. He would walk tall and stroke his blonde moustache inspecting it every five minutes whenever he got his hands on a polished silver tray or a mirror; a couple of ladies of the court had already been entranced by his narrations and were hanging on every word falling from his mouth. Of course his close friends knew that half of his stories were fabrications but no one would tell on him or hold it against him, all was fair in love and war. Even the unsmiling Hogun was now sniggering with his antics.

At the far end of the great hall, away from the noisy crowd, the celebrating prince was talking and laughing with Lady Sif. The bubbly apple wine was making Thor feel light as a feather and a pleasant dizziness was hovering over his worries about his future as a monarch. Sif, standing by him, was occasionally smothering a giggle.

When the alcohol in his blood started clouding his senses, Thor grabbed Sif by the waist and pulled her against him. Sif let out an awkward laugh before responding to the compliment and caressing his ear with soft whispers. Thor didn’t miss the chance to snake a hand around her waist spreading words over her cheek as his lip twisted in a naughty smirk until Sif turned red as a beet. They seemed like the perfect couple, a _regal_ couple; a king and his future queen.

In the meantime, the future king’s brother was lingering nearby sipping his apple wine, his tight lips constantly trying to suppress a frown. Every now and then he’d throw a glance at Thor and his glamorous lady friend just to swiftly turn back to his glass, replacing his small sips with hasty gulps that would make his eyes sting.

He remembered his vision in the Hall of Invocations when he entered Thor’s mind; he pictured once more the tall leather clad figure with the long black hair. He still couldn’t tell if the figure was man or woman but from behind it sure looked like Sif, loose and sweaty raven curls like serpents slithering down her shoulders, even if in his vision they looked shorter, deadly daggers in her hands. A dagger wasn’t Sif’s weapon of choice but Loki was certain she didn’t only use her sword or spear in battle; she was a competent warrior, she could yield any weapon, even Mjolnir if it wasn’t bound by magic.

Seeing her now in her long black dress whispering sweet nothings in Thor’s ear he had no doubt that she was the one he saw. He squeezed his wine glass so tight that it began to crack.

 _Would you run to me now, brother, if you saw my fingers slashed by shards of glass, bleeding, like you used to do when we would go hunting together? Like the time when I tumbled down the slope of_ _Skarstind_ _and tore my knees and palms and bloodied my clothes trying to catch the biggest snake for you to inspect and marvel at? To feed it rats and name it and let it slither around your neck like you always did?_

_Of course you wouldn’t run to me now._

_You cannot_

_see me._

Without a word Loki dragged his steps away from the joyous crowd, away from the prestigious couple, their wandering hands imprinted in his eyelids, the sounds of their passionate kissing ringing in his ears even after he left the noisy banquet.

He knew he was unable to mingle, unable to blend in, smile, start small talk like everyone else. He could see them sneering at him, resenting him.

_Afraid of him._

As if there was a thick glass wall between him and all those people, all those grey, mundane, ordinary people. He had no friends among them, no confidants, no one to share secrets with, fears, desires. None at all. His one and only friend was oblivious of his presence, his hands lost under silk black drapes, his tongue wandering like a hungry animal in Sif’s mouth.

It was all a joke. Everyone would smile and bow to His Highness whenever Loki walked past them but he knew they all had something to say once he turned his back. Some of them didn’t even try to mask their contempt and mistrust, sometimes unashamedly voicing their opinion or mocking him in his face for his wit, his silver tongue, his obsessive passion for reading. Volstagg was one of them and Thor would often chime in.

That was what hurt Loki the most, that Thor would rather take part in a joke than defend his own brother to those idiots. Thor had told him more than once that he didn’t need his older brother’s support, he was old enough to stand his own ground. Loki knew that was true but somehow it didn’t sound right coming from Thor’s lips. It wasn’t for him to say.

He kept silent in front of his brother’s friends, after all he had nothing to add to their silly conversations.

_After all no one cared._

He walked onto the balcony overlooking the vast gardens and breathed in the chilly air. On that festive evening he chose the loneliness of the evening breeze, the soft silver moonlight, the delicate scent of night-blooming jasmine; Asgard’s moons were rarely full on the same night of the month but on the occasion when it happened, the pale green star-shaped buds of the jasmine would emit the most intoxicating fragrance.

This was one of those nights.

Loki dragged his hand along the balcony ledge, drumming his absent-minded fingers around the raven-shaped finial, and walked down the staircase to sit on the cold marble steps leading to the dark gardens.

There was pain whenever he saw Thor with someone else, physical pain. He struggled with each slow breath to make peace with the storm in his chest, sitting there, staring into the void.

It didn’t take long for him to hear the flapping of feathers as they settled on the balcony ledge behind him, to feel the curious stare of black bead-like eyes on his back. He didn’t turn to look. If Odin wanted to know how his son was faring he might as well come out in the garden and ask him himself instead of sending his spies like a coward.

Loki wondered if the ravens could also read his mind. Just to be safe, he used the most harmless, most efficient way to stop them.

Nursery rhymes.

He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on Nan Hilde’s lullaby.

_“Bure the Strong had a son, and the son was named Bor_

_and he made most delectable ale._

_Bor and Bolthorn drank ale on a cold Jotun night_

_And the daughter brought fresh roasted whale.”_

He couldn’t tell how long he had spent on that staircase whispering the whole Vala’s Prophecy, chin resting on his hands, elbows wrapped around his knees, before he heard his mother’s footsteps. Queen Frigga, glowing like a star in her ocean blue dress, sat beside him.

Loki didn’t make a move to greet her; he kept staring into the void.

“A bit uncomfortable this seat you’ve chosen, my son, don’t you think?” the queen observed. “And freezing. I’ll call the maids to bring us some cushions and a hot bowl of mountain tea.”

“I’m not cold, Mother,” Loki reassured her attempting a smile.

He knew very well the woman who had brought him up.

_If she didn’t nag you ten times a day_

_Ragnarok was surely on its way._

Yet another fond memory, the funny ditty he used to sing with Thor to mock their mother when she was showering them with questions.

“I’m never cold. You shouldn’t worry.”

Frigga turned to study his face; looking at his snow white complexion, his sharp chiseled features, the midnight blackness of his hair, she wondered if she would ever be able to tell him he wasn’t born from her womb. She had seen him turn blue in his sleep when he was still an infant in his cradle; lost in the deep realms of dream he sometimes fought the spell and let his guard down. Frigga would cover him with a blanket whenever that happened, even risking suffocating him as she feared the palace spies. She knew the minute one of her maids saw his true nature she would tell the Shadow Elders and their punishment would be merciless. Odin had no say when they spoke; he’d rather slaughter his own child, let the Destroyer burn the baby than oppose them.

Fearing for her son’s life, she had agreed to not talk although her heart broke whenever she saw Loki losing himself in thought and loneliness. He might not have Thor’s strength or his appetite for battle but he had grown to be a man of so many gifts; he was more studious than his brother, more thoughtful. Thor lacked the discipline, the patience - and that scared Frigga. He was unable to think before acting just as he had been unable to focus on a single page of a single book as a child. He hadn’t drunk from Kvasir’s Mead of Poetry, as his teachers used to say.

Many times she caught herself having irrational thoughts as she drowned in motherly fears, wishing for her two sons to be able to rule as one for the good of Asgard, for the good of all the Nine Realms, like two bodies sharing one mind, one soul. However she knew Odin would never allow them to rule together. There were laws, there was tradition. There was Thor, the chosen one, and that was the end of it.

“I see your father is ahead of me but I don’t think those silly birds would ever get any answers just watching you sit here alone,” she joked nodding at Odin’s ravens. “Do you have any plans for tonight?” she asked threading her delicate fingers under her chin.

Shocking revelations could wait another day.

 “What plans, Mother?” Loki retorted with an awkward laugh. “This celebration will continue until morning, can you not hear them?”

“You know what I mean,” Frigga insisted and gave him a light shove with her shoulder.

His mother’s eagerness to see her son paired up with some offspring of the Aesir aristocracy made the pain in Loki’s chest unbearable.

“I have no plans,” he stated hoping that would bring an end to their discussion as the wine’s stale aftertaste lingered in his dry mouth.

Frigga gave him a concerned look. “Don’t you ever fall in love?” she reprimanded him but her tone remained warm and soothing. “We invited so many girls tonight, Asgard’s elite, the daughters of the most prestigious families from all the Nine Realms and you’re saying you have no plans?”

“It’s not that simple, Mother…”

“Is it complicated then?” she egged him on. “I don’t know a single girl in the great hall right now who wouldn’t fight all the others just to spend one night, if not a whole eternity, by the side of the son of Odin.”

“You probably mean the _other_ son of Odin, Mother…” said Loki with as much modesty as he could muster. “All those beautiful young ladies have come for Thor. Or isn’t it his birthday we’re celebrating tonight?”

“And what of it? I don’t see Fandral missing a chance to make advances on them.”

“Fandral is Fandral, bragging to impressionable young ladies is as natural to him as breathing.”

Frigga glanced at her son. No matter how much Loki tried to convince her he didn’t care, he could surely feel the injustice done to him. He had grown up in his brother’s shadow, a brother everyone would listen to, a born leader people would follow to the ends of the universe; no one could every say no to Thor.

She took his hand in hers. “You may think the world is sculpted in the shape of the throne on which your brother will sit one day but know this. Your time will come.”

Loki didn’t turn to look at her. His sole response was a bitter chuckle.

“I’ve never met a man or a god with your insight and sensibility,” Frigga continued as she gently ran the tips of her fingers over his temple, as if looking for answers to this great mystery sitting next to her. “This world needs you, my son.”

Loki returned her gaze. Frigga searched his face hoping that her words would somehow reach his lonely soul.

But she didn’t find his soul there.

Instead she was confronted by a pair of deep frightful eyes, devoid of feeling.

“Don’t… try reading my mind, Mother,” Loki warned her with a steely voice. “Not anymore. I’m stronger now. It’s like a reflex to me, deflecting mind-readers, I’ll block you out and burn your fingers and your brain if you poke any further inside my mind. It’s not…” He paused and blinked realizing how brutal his words sounded. He tried to find the last traces of sweetness left in him but there were none.

All he found was his good princely manners. “It’s not… advisable to poke.”

The chill of his words crept under Frigga’s skin. She realized they wouldn’t talk for the rest of the evening.

There would be no more talking between them for a long long time.

She got up giving his shoulder one last reassuring squeeze and returned to the banquet.

 

A few minutes passed before Loki could shake off the sense of defeat welling up in his chest.

He had no use for his mother’s pity.

He sprang to his feet ready to give this parody of a celebration a second chance.

When he found himself surrounded by people again every corner of the big hall was filled with singing, laughing and flustered red faces.

He stumbled among the joyous guests searching for no one in particular until he came across the one corner in that vast room that was too silent, the one place where he shouldn’t be. No singing or dancing was taking place there, only Thor’s hands dancing their way under Sif’s garments as her fingers got lost in his hair, pulling him against her for another deep kiss.

Loki jerked violently at the sight of the two lovers fondling each other and took a step back bumping into someone larger and drunker than him.

“Are you peeping, _Your Highness?”_ Volstagg burped with a gurgling laughter. “Here, have a drink, that might cool your pecker in case you don’t find a partner of your own.”

The towering warrior thrust a horn filled with apple wine into Loki’s chest, forcing him to trip over the table behind him and drop some empty trays on the floor in his effort to steady himself. The noise distracted Thor from Sif’s caresses momentarily, making him turn his glazed eyes towards his brother but Sif took his head in her hands again for another a hot kiss.

“Get away from me, you idiot,” Loki snapped shaking the wine off his clothes and rushed towards the exit.

As he headed for the door he noticed his mother; the familiar concerned look was casting a shadow over her face again. The hurt in her eyes broke his heart.

He wasn’t a quitter and he wasn’t a coward.

He wasn’t a bad son.

He was going to make this work.

He inhaled deeply and glanced around the large room looking for a familiar face, someone who wasn’t Thor or his idiot friends and lovers. Someone to hang out with until the evening was through. Someone to prove his mother wrong.

He found her; her name was Herja Skrymirsdottir. He remembered her father bringing her to the palace to play with the young princes. She was as he remembered her, only fuller in her womanly parts. Her fiery hair was arranged in a large unruly braid reaching down to her waist; her porcelain skin was peppered with cinnamon-coloured freckles decorating her round childlike face as well as that large portion of her chest that her skin-coloured dress shamelessly revealed. She looked naked underneath the light of a hundred candles, like a statue covered in the finest, most delicate of veils.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” she bowed and her cheeks flushed as she revealed her pretty pearly teeth.

“Do not…” Loki shook his head, unaccustomed to such displays of respect, “do not bow, I’m no king. You’re… Herja, is that correct? Herja Skrymirsdottir. I know you.”

“Correct,” the girl confirmed with an enthusiastic smile. “You remember me, Your Highness, we used to play Hnefatafl together. My father would carve the pawns himself. ”

“Ah yes,” Loki nodded, “Skrymir, the famous chess maker who made those beautiful wooden pawns. You were the best player of that board game, this is why my mother asked regularly for your presence. No children your age had your strategic skill.”

“And I would beat you every single time until you started beating me, guessing my every move,” Herja chirped with a wicked grin. “My friends would say you were using forbidden magical powers but I would always shush them, saying a prince would never resort to breaking the law and reading his opponent’s mind. A prince would use only strategy, not cheating.”

“I get to differ,” Loki smothered a laugh studying her face, amused by her naivety. “Cheating _is_ strategy. Nevertheless I would never use magic to beat you. Not ever. May I add that I’m glad my mother found you back then? She liked you very much, I could tell. She never let the servants escort you, she would always bring you to our play room herself and… I think you loved the honey nut cake she treated us when you were here.”

“Oh she always told the cooks to make my favourite dessert, yes,” Herja agreed. “But… if I may say so, Your Highness, you’re wrong, she wasn’t the one who found me and my father. It was the king who had been looking for the best Hnefatafl maker in the realm. He… He had known us for a while. When the Allfather came to visit our workshop by the river Ifing he said his younger son was in need of a partner for his board games and he wanted only the best. The best Hnefatafl maker and the best Hnefatafl player.”

“What?...” Loki said holding his breath. “But I remember it was my mother, always my mother who-“

“-brought me to you? True. I was older than Your Highness by a few centuries but still a little girl. The Allfather thought he might intimidate me with his patched eye and his ferocious beard so your queen mother offered to accompany me to your play room instead. But it was his research, his idea. His will _._ He wanted you to learn more about… about _yourself_. To know your strengths and weaknesses, I-I mean that’s what my father told me, I’m sorry, Your Highness, I’m talking too much, that’s my own weakness,” she said with an embarrassed curtsy.

Loki rubbed his throbbing temple. “He never told me that. We never talked…”

Herja lowered her eyes masking her boldness with coyness. “Rulers don’t always have time to talk to their sons, they’re too busy doing the best for them and keeping peace in their realms. Sometimes it takes to be a king to _understand_ a king. There’s so much kings don’t tell their sons…” She glanced up at Loki who looked troubled. “Are you alone, Your Highness? Is that what you’re here for?”

Loki blinked bemused until he realized there was no use lying to this brilliant young woman. She was a master strategist after all, and if she was chosen by his father over her male counterparts all those centuries ago that meant her wit matched her sublime looks.

Maybe this evening wouldn’t go to waste after all. He was certain she was pretty enough to soothe his mother’s concerns and he was indeed craving for someone with at least half a brain to talk to; she more than qualified for that.

“Walk with me?” he said offering his arm.

“Gladly, Your Highness,” Herja answered with glee sliding her arm around his.

 

“By Odin’s eye!” she exclaimed as they walked through the silent gardens, “I haven’t been here in such a long time! Remember when we used to play hide-and-seek with you and your brother? That’s the spot, those are the bushes I used to hide behind,” she said skipping with enthusiasm.

“Indeed those must be the ones,” Loki agreed.

“I beseech you, Your Highness, say we can play hide-and-seek again, for old times’ sake!” she pleaded pulling at his sleeve.

“This is not a jest, Herja, you might get lost in the gardens, it’s dark in there,” Loki warned her tightening his grip around her arm.

“Show me you can still find me – but without cheating!” she insisted. “No mind-reading this time, prove my friends wrong. What do you say?”

“I never used mind-reading to find you, you always picked the most obvious hiding places,” Loki sniggered.

“Fibber,” she teased. “You’re no good without your magical powers.”

“Yes I am,” Loki said, vexed but amused by the girl’s irreverence.

“Prove it!” Herja cried out and let go of his arm, disappearing behind a thick row of towering cypress trees. _“But count to twenty first!...”_ her crystal voice echoed through the darkness.

Loki stood still, wondering how playing hide-and-seek would prove to his mother that he was a happy son with a bright future ahead of him.

He sighed regretting ever talking to that girl but he had to play the game.

So he counted to twenty.

He walked past the cypress trees and entered the garden labyrinth. He knew its paths and dead ends like the back of his hand and could never get lost in there, not even when the darkness was pitch black.

But she wasn’t there.

When he found his way out of the shrubbery he heard a girl’s giggle and followed the sound. From time to time he looked behind his shoulder, feeling he was being watched, then turned back to his quest for the feisty redhead with the brilliant strategic mind. He knew that was what princes were supposed to do with ladies of the court and he found it so damnably dull until he saw a light pink veil swirling in the night breeze behind a pine tree. He sighed with relief; his quest was over.

He pulled at the veil. “Found you!” he yelled, waiting for Herja to appear under the veil. Instead he was left holding a piece of cloth.

_He thought he knew cold._

What fell on his head wasn’t just cold. It was like a thousand shards of ice, a thousand sharp pins, a thousand frozen nails falling on his head, covering his body like an avalanche.

“What in all Nine Realms…?” he gasped as his body, cold and stiff and in shock, tensed for fear there might be another bucket of frozen water waiting for him.

Gales of wild laughter boomed from behind the bushes. Volstagg and Fandral revealed themselves from their hiding places, each of them accompanied by a small group of drunk giggling girls in flashy golden gowns. Loki whirled around in a wild attempt to evaluate the situation, count his enemies in one glance, see if there was a way out of that trap as he panted frantically, the chill night breeze turning his clothes into a freezing straitjacket. 

Herja appeared behind the pine tree, her hands squeezing her cherry mouth as she tried to suppress her giggles.

“Are you alright?” she asked wiping the water off Loki’s clothes with her veil. “They told me they were planning a jape but I didn’t expect… _that.”_

“He’ll live,” Volstagg laughed approaching Loki and patted him on the chest. “There’s nothing like a bucket of cold water to soothe a flustered young man.”

“Get your hands off me…” Loki snarled with shaking fists, strings of soaking hair covering his eyes.

“Come now, Loki,” Fandral urged, “it was a mere jest, no hard feelings, I hope? Thor told us you had an uncanny tolerance to cold water and we just wanted… to test that. Apparently he’s normal like us, Thor!” the blonde warrior called out turning his back to Loki. “Look at him, he’s shaking.”

Up until that moment Loki hadn’t seen his brother among that merry company but there he was, with Sif right next to him.

The pair looked like scared cats, heavy doubt shadowing Thor’s eyes as he walked towards Loki. He looked around unsure of what to say.

“It… it was only a jest…” he slurred, his nervous eyes shifting from Loki to Volstagg who was now holding his belly as he cracked a joke with Fandral.

“A _jest?_ A JEST?” Loki snapped gaping in horror and amazement, his burning eyes holding back tears of rage as he struggled not to stutter.

But truly there was nothing to stutter about. Nothing of interest to anyone in that group of imbeciles.

Loki moved across the circle of Thor’s friends and walked away with his brother following right behind him.

“Leave him!” Fandral yelled as the brothers took the path towards the palace. “He’s a big boy, he’ll get over it. You said so!”

Thor ignored Fandral and grabbed Loki’s arm. “Hey listen-“

Loki yanked his arm out of Thor’s grip.

“It was only a joke!” Thor shouted. “You should be laughing too, we _thought_ you would!”

“But I’m not, am I?” Loki barked. “Everyone says you have many gifts but apparently a tasteful sense of humour is not one of them. You know, maybe people just love to overpraise a _famous name.”_

Thor flinched in pain. “Be calm,” he said. “We meant you no harm. I just told the Warriors Three about the lake in the cave, what an extraordinary place it was, then I mentioned you and they were amazed that you couldn’t feel the cold. Just like I was. They told me you were probably lying but I told them they could never take the cold like you could. Then it was Fandral’s idea to test your resistance to… Look, Loki, I’m sorry that- I mean I didn’t know they’d actually do it, I honestly thought they were joking.”

“Is that why you were standing right behind them?” Loki lashed out, his eyes ablaze with wrath. “You wanted to see if the jape would work instead of doing something to stop it?”

Thor stared at him with a guilt-ridden frown.

 “And to think father wants to make _you_ king.” Loki’s laughter was as bitter as the wine’s stale aftertaste in his mouth.  “ _You_ of all people. What a joke.”

Thor flared his nostrils, wrinkles of hurt framing his eyes. “What do our silly games have to do with whether I’m a good ruler or not? I’ve proven my worth in battle and I’m the mightiest in all the Nine Realms. I know those assets are of no importance to you - after all you were always the better student, weren’t you?” he said throwing Loki a stony stare. “But truly you have no idea what it’s like, you never had anything to prove, you weren’t burdened with the throne. You were always mother’s favoured son, her star pupil, and that was enough, wasn’t it?” he rasped. “You were the scholar in the family who tasted Kvasir’s Mead  - and I _wasn’t,_ I could never read hundreds of books like you, Loki, I-I can’t concentrate, I can’t-”

“How… How _dare_ you make this about you?…” Loki spat slitting his eyes. “Are you even listening to what you’re saying?”

Thor couldn’t hear him anymore, he was howling like a madman. “I know that to you I’m not good enough, I’ll _never_ be enough,” he roared. “Maybe my talents are no match for yours but at least they’re… they’re enough to our subjects who are in need of a strong fist to defend them, and that’s all that matters when you’re a king.”

“Of _course!”_ Loki scoffed. “The mighty Thor, the strongest of the strong, the quickest, the fairest. Wasn’t that the song I heard even in my sleep? The song we grew up with in this damnable realm of golden statues and tales of glorious battles and brave soldiers. What no one knows is that you’re also the _dumbest_ of them all. Apologies, Thor, but no amount of books could ever make _you_ smarter,” he croaked.

Thor glared at his brother. “…Take that back,” he grunted under his breath.

Loki lifted his head, defiant. “You’re the biggest oaf among your cronies, if that’s even possible.” He would rather see the deep hurt in his brother’s eyes than be ignored by him, after all he had been ignored all night long. All his life. It was time for a bit of fun.

“I should have known,” he continued with no trace of mercy. “You deserve each other.”

Thor walked up to him stopping mere inches from his face - his narrowed eyes like searing blue flames, his hot breath burning Loki’s skin, his hard fists clenching and unclenching and strangling nothing but air. He opened his mouth but didn’t utter a single word. He just turned on his heels and walked back to his friends who stood silent in a distance, watching the brothers fight.

“Go on!” Loki howled. _“Run._ Go back to them. Only they can appreciate your brilliance and your wit, besides you all have a matching taste in japes, don’t you? Go back to your minions, Thor. Go- _ON!!!”_

Thor didn’t stop when he reached his friends; he walked heavily past them as if they weren’t there, as if they were mere ghosts, speechless, transparent, immaterial. They followed him in silence glancing back at Loki one last time, some ridden with guilt, some resentful. Loki glared back at them. Herja looked baffled and somewhat sad, as if the fumes from the wine in her brain had melted away, leading her to the realization that this was Odin’s son she had tricked, this was Asgard’s prince she had led to be trapped and humiliated.

If Loki had his way he would order hers and her family’s banishment to the eternal winter of Jotunheim, if not their execution, but it was too early to relish his power.

His time would come.

Wasn’t that what mother said?

He moved decisively towards the palace leaving a trail of droplets behind him, his nails digging into his wet palms. His soaked boots made sloshing sounds as he walked through the grass and his cold lips, turning an unnatural blue, twisted into a triumphant smile while lust for vengeance filled him with the most majestic fantasies of justice and retribution.

The methods of punishment he thought of for Thor’s friends were sweet and inventive but there was still one thing that was killing all joy within him, one memory from that evening’s incident that wouldn’t let him savour the power he knew he had over those dull pathetic creatures. The tormenting images had been imprinted on the inside of his eyelids and wouldn’t let him have a moment’s peace that night.

It was the deep hurt in Thor’s eyes.

It was the sight of Thor’s back as he walked away from him without a glance.

Without a single word.


	5. In the library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who needs Thor when he can have hundreds of books, right?

The days that followed saw the Odinson brothers exchanging few words and even fewer glances during meals, most of the time being in different places as if they had made a silent agreement to not cross each other’s path. Thor would spend the biggest part of the day in the courtyard training with Heimdall and when the sun would set he would run to his chambers without as much as a wave to his companions, take long hot baths alone and skip family dinners despite his parents’ protests.

Loki would stay in the library from dawn till dusk, brooding, devouring tome after tome of his favourite history books, trying to find comfort in those brittle yellowed pages like he always did when Thor was too busy chasing outlaws and ogres with his friends, or too angry to talk to him. When Thor was absent Loki would rather shut himself up in the library than chase after him, sharing the silence with the same old man with the crusty ape-like eyes and the pince-nez who would sneak glances at him over his book from across the aisle.

After all it was Thor who needed to apologize, not him.

He read “King Bor: Sustaining Peace in the Nine Realms” for the sixth time before moving on to his favourite read whenever he was angry with his family, “Eternal Winter: Jotunheim’s Legacy”. It was a fascinating book albeit biased, talking of the Frost Giants as great warriors and magicians but also presenting them as the most bloodthirsty monsters of all time.

 _History wasn’t written by the victors,_ he mused. _History was written by my father._

After reading all those books multiple times Loki moved on to study every single asterisked entry and footnote no one had ever read before; he was lifting “history’s carpet” as he often joked to see what had been swept under it.

To his great amusement he found a couple of stories that would never be taught in Asgard’s schools, things Odin probably didn’t want people to remember.

The first interesting entry involved Fafnir, a Frost Giant who had been commissioned centuries ago by Odin himself to build his glorious palace, the golden edifice in which Loki had lived all his life. The giant was also known for killing his brother Fasolt to claim his portion of their payment, the magical ring Rheingold, which was given to Jotunheim’s royalty later on.

Rheingold was infamous. By the end of the war people named it Odinsskam, “Odin’s Shame”. It was the one treasure Odin left Laufey after his soldiers pillaged Utgard, the capital of Jotunheim, stripping it of all its riches. Rheingold was bound by magic and everyone knew only Laufey’s relatives could wear it, like a crown. The throne passed from generation to generation through the ring and only the Jotun king himself could hand it to his successor. It was the one thing Odin didn’t dare take from Laufey. _Hubris is always a thing to fear_ , Loki thought with a spiteful snigger, _whether you’re a man or a god._

The other interesting footnote was about Utgarthilocus the Illusionist, king Laufey’s brother who was the greatest magician among the Jotuns changing in shape and size and pulling the biggest tricks on the gods of Asgard while he lived. He was a worthy opponent by all accounts, yet he fell.

Was he just a legend after all, another piece of the Allfather’s doctrine? After Odin defeated Laufey and his armies, rumours said that he kept Utgarthilocus’ magical bones in his Vault. Loki swore he would sneak into the forbidden treasury one day, when his powers would be strong enough to trick the Destroyer himself. He wanted to see if the rumours were true, if Utgarthilocus was real and if Jotun bones were as blue as their skin, just like Nan Hilde used to tell him and Thor when they were children.

_Nan Hilde._

Loki remembered her voice and hummed his favourite stanza from _The Vala’s Prophecy._ It talked of a wandering Asgardian god (some even said it was his own grandfather) and a beautiful giantess who was sold to him for ale. Somehow it made sense to Loki that Bor was supposed to be the father of all the Aesir, his real identity lost in the deep oceans of time, and the woman was just a slave from Jotunheim.

_“She’s so lovely,” said Bor, his hand on her blue cheek,_

_“and her eyes gleam like rubies on fire.”_

_“You can marry her now for ten barrels of ale_

_You can save her from Jotunheim’s mire.”_

He loved that part. At least that poem didn’t lie about Asgardian cruelty over the Frost Giants. 

_Nan Hilde and her verses._

Loki missed his wet nurse, her songs, her tales. He missed her berry pancakes, her smile when she served them. He missed little Thor stealing his  pancake, then screaming in disgust and hurling his bowl to the floor because Loki had cast a spell on the berries to make them look like goat droppings.

The angrier Thor got the more Loki laughed. Most of the times his pranks were innocent even when there was a dangerous challenge or a wager involved, or a silly little dagger Loki had stolen from the Einherjar. Thor would always laugh in the end and Loki would always be forgiven.

But the god of mischief was too old now. He had forgotten how to win Thor’s forgiveness.

The thought gnawed at his chest.

He grabbed another volume to take his mind off the pain.

After long hours in the library he realized he had to share the table with his parents. He thought he’d take advantage of Thor’s absence and try to play the obedient son. He sat next to his mother and took small sips from his soup, most of the time not meeting his parents’ eye, answering their questions with short replies and excusing himself before they were done eating. They asked him about Thor but he evaded their questions reassuring them that everything was “quite alright”.

He couldn’t put up with Frigga’s silent inquisitive looks anymore, or the choked mocking giggles whenever he turned his back to Fandral, Volstagg and their cronies. Only Hogun didn’t laugh. He hadn’t taken part in the prank. He didn’t approve of the young prince being ridiculed but as a loyal friend to Thor he never expressed his opinion openly.

It was Thor; it was always Thor standing between Loki and self-respect, between him and happiness. It was Thor’s stubbornness, his recklessness, his unforgivable denial. That would always replace the pain in Loki’s chest with anger, and admittedly anger felt better.

Loki still hated him for the prank, and he hated him even more for denying his darkest feelings. Denying _him._

His feverish wet dreams came back after the incident in the gardens, more vivid than ever. The more Loki despised his brother the more he wanted to be ruined by him.

One of those nights Loki found it impossible to sleep. He sought refuge in the observatory wondering how hard it would be to live like Heimdall who found solace in his solitude, gazing at the stars all day and all night, seeing every soul in the universe and knowing their every move, their every secret. Did Heimdall know his secrets as well? The Gatekeeper was an excellent observer but he certainly wasn’t a mind reader like the trickster god, and Loki was thankful for that.

The young prince wondered many times what he would discover if he ventured another dive into Thor’s subconscious. Would he find himself there again, being taken on all fours, a needy slut with hands tied on Thor’s bed like? Would his knuckles turn white as they squeezed around the rails, sweat running down his nose and chin as it dripped rhythmically on silken pillows, his reddened knees trying to resist each push, each thrust, each brutal intrusion? Would Thor hold his head down and fuck him through moans and grunts, would Loki’s orgasmic cries make him harder than the sighs of his wenches? Would Thor shut him up squeezing his lips until Loki emptied his load on his brother’s palm, until his soft ecstatic whimpers escaped through calloused fingers?

Sometimes Loki would wake with glistening spend spilled all over the sheets, his throbbing cock telling of his lustful dreams. Those wet and sticky mornings he sensed Thor had seen the same dream as him – the dream of ravaging his little brother, wrecking him, fucking him brutally into the mattress.

And sometimes he dreamt he was the one doing the fucking; he jerked off to that thought alone. It would feel heavenly, to be inside Thor.

The rare times when that happened he swore he could hear Thor’s helpless moans, his beastly cries filling his head louder than ever. He could almost feel Thor’s thick fingers smeared with spit or oil stretching his own hole, digging into it as he sighed his name.

 

_Loki._

_Lo-_

_Oh fu--_

_Fuck._

_ME._

Whenever Thor fantasized about being wrecked by his dear brother, the orgasms Loki experienced were so strong, so shockingly overwhelming that he found himself biting hard on his fist lest a guard or a servant, walking outside his door, barged in offering assistance to his helpless cries. When the aftershocks left his body paralyzed Loki would slip a finger or two in his mouth licking his own cum, pretending that was Thor’s tongue pushing through his panting lips, imagining that was his spend.

After their game in the Hall of Invocations Loki knew they had established a spiritual connection no matter how hard Thor tried to deny it. All he had to do was make Thor admit he kept dreaming of him.

That night in the observatory he decided to invade his brother’s chamber and read his mind again, wake him up during the dream and confront him, settle this once and for all. All he had to do was touch Thor’s forehead in his sleep.

The time was now.

He returned to the palace, crept through long corridors and walked up the staircase that led to Thor’s room. Even if Thor had locked the door Loki would use his telekinetic powers to unlock it from the outside, it was going to be so easy. But there was no need to unlock that door – it opened before Loki could even reach for the knob, as if waiting for him.

He was taking cautious steps along the corridor, his heart pumping wildly in his chest, when someone barged out of Thor’s room clutching the silken sheets around her naked body, covering her sweaty cleavage with fistfuls of drapes.

“Good-good evening, Loki…” Sif mumbled bumping into him with an awkward smile. She threw a hasty glance around and without another word she vanished behind the corner leaving Thor’s door half-open.

Loki’s breath got trapped in his throat, every thought erased from his mind. After a few terrifying seconds he mustered all the courage he could and approached the door hesitantly, wondering if he should let Thor know he was there. He thought of leaving but as he walked past the door he heard Thor’s voice.

“Loki…”

He stopped in his tracks upon hearing his name spoken so softly, so urgently. He took a step back and turned to regard Thor with as much coldness as he could.

“Come in,” Thor invited him with a pleading gesture. “We need to talk.”

Loki peered through the half-light of the dying fire into his brother’s eyes. He could see Thor was still hurting but there was something more; he looked sleepless, weary. Wanting.

“Please, Loki…” 

_That deep hoarse voice-_

_like the distant rumbling of the coming storm-_

_begging him._

The voice of his dreams, calling out his name as he should have done to stop him from leaving when Odin ordered that they slept in separate bedchambers, when they first dreamt of each other. When they first touched themselves under the covers or in the steaming water of the tub wondering if the other, at the far end of the palace, was doing the same. Wondering if they had the same dirty thoughts, if they both were longing to melt inside each other’s mouth, feeling the walls of that brotherly throat tightening, sucking down every last drop of each other’s cum.

Loki couldn’t even count how many times he had dreamt of running his fingers through Thor’s hair and grabbing fistfuls of it, dizzy with delight, pulling it with all his might until he found release in that delectable mouth. He would close his eyes every time shaking, spasming, moaning as he imagined Thor’s thirsty face getting sprayed by his spend, his agile tongue licking him clean from balls to tip rendering him a breathless disheveled mess.

Only to open his eyes again and find himself alone in his bed.

Loki was one step away from entering that room, one thought away from forgiving Thor for everything; forgiving him for his prank, forgiving him for denying his feelings for years, for bedding Sif and all those girls when his own brother would let him have him any way he pleased.

He was willing to forget everything. Give it all up. Start over.

But he had been betrayed.

His eyes darted from Thor’s sorrowful face to the scratches on his broad shoulders and the tiny bruises on his neck.

_Scratches from a woman’s nails._

_Bruises from passionate loving lips._

Loki’s feverish gaze traveled from his brother’s sweaty chest to his hands pulling the laces of his open breeches that were bulging from his still dripping manhood.

A hateful wrinkle broke between Loki’s brows.

That was not the night he was going to forgive Thor.

“I’m-I’m sorry, Thor,” he mumbled averting his eyes, “I’m tired, had a sleepless night. Maybe another time.”

“Loki, don’t go!...”

By the time Thor stormed out of his room Loki had already ran down the stairs and disappeared into the darkness of the sleeping palace.


	6. The lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for an apology.

In the following weeks Thor’s behaviour changed.

He wasn’t missing family dinners anymore. He wasn’t training or sparring all day to the point of exhaustion. He was spending time with his old friends but more often than not he would find an excuse to ride his horse alone and lose himself in the dark pine forest beyond the city walls, until the sun hid behind the mountains. He was distracted whenever someone tried to start a conversation with him and he didn’t ask to talk to his brother again.

At first it all seemed perfect to Loki because there were no more pranks, no more giggles in the corridors, no more jokes. But he found no satisfaction in any of that.

He was missing his brother.

Once he tried to establish a mental connection with Thor, see what he had been up to, why he had been away all day long. In his mind Loki saw water, pebbles and crushed shells. Without telling anyone where he was going he put on his fur cloak and took a walk outside the city walls.

He found Thor skipping stones in the lake near the forest. It was a peaceful afternoon but the weather was cold and humid, discouraging the citizens of Asgard from swimming or even taking naps on the grass.

They were alone.

Loki had never seen Thor like that, silent and lost in thought, staring into the void, seeking out loneliness. He considered his broad warrior shoulders from behind, the strong neck, the golden locks as they were blown away by the swirling wind.

He loved Thor’s new look, he loved those locks getting longer each day.

He loved Thor.

He would hug this statue of a man if he could. Tell him everything was going to be alright. Tell him he wasn’t angry anymore.

The god of thunder heard his brother walking through the grass behind him. He didn’t have to look to know it was him, for all their estrangement the mental connection was still there, like a golden thread pulling at their navels, binding them together. He made a slight move to turn but he fought the familiar urge to welcome his brother and kept his gaze fixed across the lake, somewhere beyond the trees; somewhere where there would be no blue eyes to judge him and no thin pale lips to spit out hateful words.

“It’s getting colder,” Loki observed behind him. “And you didn’t bring your furs with you.”

“It’s too early to wear furs…” Thor grumbled trying to ignore his brother’s interest and hurled a stone with such force, such unparalleled skill that it skipped a hundred times on the water, reaching the opposite bank of the lake to finally land on dry sand.

“You’re not like me,” Loki insisted, his voice betraying the slightest trace of concern. “You’re not made for cold.”

“No,” Thor scoffed tossing a stone in the air to grab it again. “I’m _nothing_ like you.”

Loki sighed dropping his head in regret. “Thor, listen, I’m really-”

“No. You listen,” Thor interjected as he kept staring at the lake, deep wrinkles digging around his tight lips. “I was the stupid one. I really was. I never told them that dropping a bucket of cold water on your head was a bad idea. It could have killed you if they had let the rope a bit looser, and I would… I would never forgive myself. We were all too drunk to think straight and… well… I suppose I was the drunkest of them all for letting them carry on with their jape.”

Loki closed his eyes holding back angry tears as the memory of that evening hit him again. “It… it wasn’t your fault,” he said eventually faking a forgiving smile.

Thor kept throwing stones at the lake, his arms as heavy as the words coming out of his mouth. “It feels like it was though. And I’m not expecting you to forgive me. I’m just telling you how it all happened.”

“If I had to forgive you for every little thing that happened in the past few centuries I wouldn’t have time for anything else,” Loki chuckled.

“So it’s _that_ bad?” Thor wondered, remorse breaking his voice. “Hel…”

“You don’t know?” Loki smiled bitterly.

Thor was unable to find the words. He didn’t throw the last pebble; he kept fiddling with it in his fingers, tossing it in the air, flipping it like a coin.

“I really wanted to talk to you, you know…” he murmured staring at shells on the ground that he had just smashed with his foot, his voice barely audible.

Loki raised an intrigued brow. “When?”

“When… when I saw you outside my chamber…”

“You mean the night you had spent fucking the brains out of Sif? Oh, _that_ night.”

The cold sharpness in Loki’s voice wasn’t lost on Thor. “Yes, I spent the evening with Sif,” he admitted. “But… you saw her leave. I didn’t want her to stay. I know it’s stupid and it’s too late but… I wanted to talk to someone and she wasn’t that someone,” he said digging the sand with the tip of his boot.

“Ah yes, I was always a good listener,” Loki said with icy disdain. “I guess you wanted to apologize to me for what you and your imbecile friends had done so you thought why not, now’s the chance. Much easier than having to walk to the other side of the palace just to find me.”

Thor turned to look at him. His eyes were full of hurt. “This is not true,” he muttered brokenly. “I didn’t just want to apologize to you. I wanted… It’s what I said, I wanted to _talk_ , I didn’t want to be alone. And I certainly didn’t want to be with Sif. I… I just wanted to tell you that you’re the only person that-”

 _Is that a shade of red spreading across his cheeks?_ Loki wondered as he felt his body growing numb with anticipation.

Was the god of thunder really trying to tell him something? Tell him that he cared? He couldn’t tell because Thor immediately turned to gaze at the lake.

Loki’s heart started pounding in his chest. “What did you want to tell me, Thor?” he urged him with as much breath as he had left in him. “You-you can talk if you want. About _anything.”_

The wind sweeping the lake made Thor’s eyes water. He winced in pain. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said crisply, his voice changing into a harsh grunt. “Look, it’s… it’s too late, Loki, the sun is setting. You should be on your way.”

“There’s no-?” Loki gasped in frustration and bit his lip so hard he swore he could taste blood. He shook his head blinking away angry tears. “Alright, Thor,” he murmured. “Alright. I’ll leave you alone.”

With a new wave of despair boiling in his chest he turned his back on his brother. Thor didn’t throw him a single glance as Loki walked back to the city walls with his cloak flapping around him like a flag on the mast of a wrecked ship, its wooden heart breaking into a thousand pieces before sinking beneath black waves.


	7. Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is easier after a few bottles of apple wine.

Thor’s silence didn’t last more than two weeks.

At first he went back to his usual habits and Loki thought he had lost him forever. Once again he was wasting his evenings at alehouses, bedding the prettiest, naughtiest girls in the realm; sometimes two or three of them would be seen leaving his chambers in the middle of the night or they would be found by servants the following morning sleeping in each other’s arms.

He started training again in the courtyard with the Warriors Three for hours on end, however Sif was nowhere near him - apparently they had a fight. He spent most of the evenings with his family unless he visited other realms with Fanrdal, Volstagg and Hogun only to return bloodied and piss drunk. Always piss drunk.

 

It was past midnight and Loki was planning to read his book until the candle was spent like he always did. There were only a few pages left when he heard Thor’s growling outside his room.

_“Lo-kiiiii….”_

He shoved the covers aside and jumped out of bed to open the door to a bruised and bleeding Thor. His wounds were mere scratches and he didn’t seem to have broken any bones but still he looked pitiful. Loki made him sit on the armchair near the fireplace, threw some logs in the dying fire to boil water and after tossing a handful of dry leaves in the pot he brought a basin with a cloth to clean Thor’s wounds. Fortunately no stitching was needed so all Loki had to do was smear Thor’s cuts with a balm of his own making.

“Wha…” Thor slurred swaying his head, struggling to focus on Loki’s expert fingers as they gently applied the balm on his hand. “What… what is this?”

“Shhh, just an ointment,” Loki soothed him adjusting himself on a stool next to the armchair. “Don’t fret, it’s oregano, helichrysum, lavender and frankincense, nothing more. What kind of trouble did you get yourself into this time?” he scorned Thor. “And why didn’t you go to the Healers right away?”

Thor ignored his scolding. “We were chasing renegades pillaging villages in Vanaheim, then ended up at this famous Vanir alehouse, as usual…” he half grunted with no interest to elaborate on that day’s endeavours. “Did you make this?” His eyelids were heavy from the drink and the pain. “The ointment, is it yours?”

“Of course it’s mine,” Loki said dismissively, a hint of pride in his indifferent tone. “Now stand _still_. Drink this.”

He took the steaming bowl with the boiled herbs from the fire and brought it to Thor’s mouth. The wounded god of thunder spat half of it, gagging.

“Oh Hel,” he rasped, “what is this damnable concoction, it tastes horrible…”

“Garlic, propolis, ginger and clove,” Loki explained. “It fights the infection from within.”

Thor drank the rest of the infusion in one gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand while Loki swiped his torn shoulder with the dump cloth, applying a good amount of balm onto the wound. Thor’s lips were still dripping the horrible bitter liquid, his wet mouth dangerously close to Loki’s ear as he turned to see what his very own “healer” was doing.

“Is that yours as well? This… tea?”

“Yes…” Loki replied focusing on the muscled shoulder’s wound as he tried to ignore Thor’s hot breath on his skin. 

“You’re brilliant, Loki, you were always brilliant, all those books you’ve read, I mean-” Thor gushed and in a sudden burst of impulsiveness he placed his palms on Loki’s cheeks, making him turn. “My brilliant little brother...” he cooed with a childlike smile, his lips almost touching Loki’s. For all his drunkenness he was still able to focus on the only two things that mattered to him in that room; his brother’s eyes, his half-open mouth.

A rush of blood filled Loki’s groin with sudden heat. Almost instinctively he tore his head from Thor’s grip and shifted his weight on the stool moving as far away from his drunken uncontrollable brother as possible. “You’re ready,” he slurred through his teeth. “Time to go to bed. We’re done here.”

“I’m not going to my room,” Thor moaned. “I’m _not_ going to sleep alone, not anymore. You can’t make me.” He was delirious. “Not even the Allfather can make me. Let him try.”

He was a boy again; a teenage boy watching helpless the servants carrying a bed out of his room, a child being separated by the one creature in the world that mattered to him.

His only brother.

“Alright, Thor,” Loki breathed trying to stay as composed as possible. “Alright. Tonight you will sleep in my bed. But you’ll go back to your room at first light. And don’t be such a baby.”

“I’m not a baby,” Thor protested like an infant being deprived of his favourite toy as Loki slid his hand under his wounded arm. “I just want to sleep with my little brother this once,” he groaned letting himself be carried.

 _“You_ are sleeping in my bed,” Loki corrected him, _“I_ am sleeping in the armchair.”

“Is that right?...”

As Loki eased him down on the bed Thor slipped his huge arms around his brother’s shoulders, pressing him against his chest.

His lips almost reached Loki’s face.

“I love you, Loki,” he breathed in his mouth.

Loki’s breath hitched; those forbidden yet torturously longed for words were the last thing he expected to hear that night. “I-I love you too, brother.”

“No no no…” Thor whimpered, “you don’t understand, I want to be with you all day and all night. I want to rule with you. People say you’re not strong like me or brave like me but what do they know, you’re smart. You’d make a great councilor, Loki, a great… _king.”_

Loki felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room; if Thor’s breath wasn’t stinking of alcohol he might even believe him.

Thor placed his palm on Loki’s chest, warming a heart about to burst. “I want you to rule with me,” he sighed and carefully wrapped his fingers around the firm pec hiding underneath thin fabric.

Loki wasn’t listening anymore, Thor’s hand was making his nipples harden and his eyes almost fluttered shut from the hot intimacy.

“With me. By my side,” Thor continued staring at Loki’s lips with glazed eyes, losing himself in their soft depths. “Always by my side. Where you belong. Where _I want you._ With me,” he said grabbing his neck. _“On_ me…”

Loki’s mind was suddenly filled with the glowing image of himself naked, comfortable on his brother’s lap as he sank back in his golden throne with his knees splayed out and his muscular abdomen brushing gently over Loki’s back. Strong hands with leather vambraces were rubbing the length of Loki’s thighs, bracketing his hips to control his feverish movements, forcing him to bounce rhythmically as their sweaty hips slapped against each other, making Loki sink down on his hardness and hammering his virgin hole, stretching it open with each hard thrust, fucking into it.

Loki’s mind was filled with gasps growing hotter and heavier on the nape of his neck as the god of thunder fondled his balls and jerked the life out of his reddened cock with fast expert strokes, as if Thor knew exactly where to touch him, how to please him.

How to fuck him.

He knew now; it was Thor’s imagination violently projecting those lewd thoughts to him, their mental connection so strong, so hot and unbearable that Loki was seconds away from coming in his breeches with an almost pained gasp.

The inebriated god of thunder rose just enough to grab his brother by the collar only to sink back in bed with him. “Kiss me,” he whispered as Loki landed on him, their noses almost touching, their eyes locked in a searing gaze. He tapped his finger on his own lip and smiled a foolish smile, inviting Loki. “Kisssssss _meeeeee...”_ he repeated.

“I… can’t,” Loki stuttered helplessly. “We’re brothers.”

“Oh come, nobody will know,” Thor insisted as he lifted his torso and leaned on his elbow. “Kiss me, or I’ll kiss you. Do you want that?” he hummed caressing behind Loki’s ear, his rough thumb making tiny circles in its cavity, teasing his hole, seducing him. “Do you want me to kiss you, Loki?...”

He slipped his hand in his own breeches, tracing his hardness as his other hand remained on Loki’s neck.

Loki knew he would give his soul to the Goddess of Death just to have those huge fingers explore his heaving chest, his burning crotch, his ready, needy hole.

“No, you’re too drunk to be kissed,” he joked and pulled away forcing a laugh.

“So what, come here.”

Loki tried to breathe as Thor’s massive arms squeezed him in a tight embrace, as his ravenous tongue filled every inch of his mouth. The taste of cheap wine brushed over his tongue. He blindly unlaced his own breeches to let Thor have his way with him and then-

Thor stopped.

He rolled on his back breaking into a loud cackle.

“You’re right, I can’t fuck you, you’re my brother,” he chortled, the fumes in his brain getting the best of him. “I wish you weren’t though,” he yawned. “Too bad you’re not Sif. You’re tighter than Sif.”

There was another burst of giggles until there was no air left in Thor’s lungs. He let his hand drop lifeless on the mattress and before Loki could blink Thor was snoring heavily.

Loki pushed back his messed up hair and took a few deep breaths closing his eyes before he dared look at his brother again. Thor was fast asleep and a whole army clanging their shields over his head couldn’t wake him. Loki pulled up the blanket to cover his brother’s naked shoulders and took his place in the armchair by the fireplace.

Restless and flustered, he managed to have a short dreamless sleep just a little before dawn.


	8. Sif

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look at me. I’m not Loki, I’m not your brother. I never was.”

                                                                                    

 

When Loki woke Thor wasn’t there. There was the water basin next to his bed, the vase with the ointment on the bedside and the covers in disarray but there was no trace of Thor.

He was gone.

Once more the brothers didn’t meet before the evening when they sat in silence at the dinner table with their parents. Once more they were avoiding each other’s gaze. At least Thor was.

When the god of thunder couldn’t bear Loki’s piercing eyes any longer he dropped his spoon in the soup with an angry clang, dragged his chair back and stormed off without a word.

Loki mumbled an excuse wiping his mouth with a napkin and without waiting for his parents’ permission he went after Thor.

He found him in his chamber. The door was left open. Thor had his back turned on him.

“Thor, yesterday I-”

“I’m not going to discuss this,” Thor snapped.

“You may not want to discuss this,” Loki insisted, “but it happened.”

“I was _drunk.”_

“If you’re feeling bad about it, don’t,” Loki muttered taking a small cautious step towards his brother. “It was only a kiss.”

“There was no kiss…” Thor slurred clenching his fists.

“But Thor-”

 _“THERE WAS NO KISS!!!”_ Thor roared and turned, his face flushed with anger.

Loki didn’t flinch as he once did facing his brother’s rage. He was expecting this. He only threw a wary look around him.

“Well done,” he said mockingly letting his hands drop on his sides. “You just informed the whole palace we kissed. I’m certain that was exactly what you wa-”

Thor rushed past him shoving him with his shoulder, slammed the door shut behind them and turned the key.

 “Are you happy?” he hissed in Loki’s ear as he reached the window with three furious steps to grasp the ledge with both hands, squeezing the marble with his eyes stuck on the floor.

Loki shook his head with trembling lips. “I’m… I’m never happy, Thor,” he lamented. “I haven’t felt happy in centuries. I thought you knew.”

Thor pursed his lips. “I never meant to make you miserable…” he muttered, his voice breaking with regret.

“But here we are…” Loki said opening his arms in defeat.

“What do you want me to do, Loki?” Thor groaned turning back to him. “Fuck you senseless? Then what?”

“You fuck Sif senseless every night and every other girl in Asgard for that matter so I don’t see why you couldn’t fuck me,” Loki said dryly.

 “You think this is funny?” Thor grumbled and glanced outside the window as he heard Loki’s taunting steps approaching him from behind. “You’re my _brother.”_

“Oh is that the problem then?” Loki asked with a sarcastic smile. “I’m sure I can accommodate you.”

That last phrase was spoken in a sharp but velvety woman’s voice. Thor turned. It wasn’t Loki standing in front of him anymore.

It was Sif.

And she was naked.

“You know it should have been me all this time and not her, don’t you?” Sif said, her seductive whispery voice tickling Thor’s ears like a snake slithering on his naked skin.

That was Lady Sif’s lithe body and those were her hazel eyes and that was her voice, but the tone wasn’t hers. The harsh irony in those words wasn’t hers.

It was Loki’s.

There was nothing that wasn’t Loki about her. Her long black curls, her feminine form, nothing but a cunning trick.

She took one last step towards the god of thunder. “Fuck me, Odinson,” she said with a breathy whisper as her fingers skimmed over his cheek, brushing her thumb over his lip. “Fuck me till I bleed, 'til I scream for mercy. Fuck me in this form and no one will ever know. Not even you.”

“Loki, please, you’re my-”

“Look at me. I’m not Loki, I’m not your brother. I never was,” Sif breathed in Thor’s lips darting out her tongue to get a quick taste of him.

More and more licks, each of them naughtier, each of them thirstier, were added to her fierce intrusion until Thor yielded letting her invade him with deep thrusts of her tongue, until they were moaning into each other’s mouth.

She took his hand and pressed it on her breast; flustered by her readiness Thor grabbed her ass with an angry groan scooping her into his arms and carried her to bed claiming his loot, his long-coveted trophy, his prize. He eased her down on the mattress and gasped when she started massaging his crotch. With a triumphant grin she watched him unbuckle his belt with twitchy fingers. Her eyes, fixed on him, went dark with hunger and she stood on all fours to yank down his breeches and wrap her hand around his girth. She lifted her head when she heard him gasp for air; he loved the perky roundness of her ass, he loved watching his cock disappear into her mouth with one long gulp as she sucked him like no mistress or whore had sucked him before, bringing him to the edge of pleasure in seconds.

 _Ugh_.

He closed his eyes, defenseless, unprepared.

_Look at him, our golden prince, our precious heir, disheveled, defeated._

_At my mercy._

It didn’t take Thor long to come with a loud gasp into Sif’s mouth.

He recovered lying on his back fingering her wildly to keep her wet and needy before he resumed his position on top of her, forcing her knees open with his dominating pelvis, grasping her hands over her head to hold her still, until he slammed hard into her unbearably wet cunt swallowing the slapping sounds of her womanly folds and her loud orgasm.

She cried out melting all over him like heated honey, her eyes shut to savour every second of her climax, her pussy contracting around his cock, squeezing him, making him want to drive into her ruthlessly, desperate for his release.

Thor began his final series of thrusts reaching a peak of unparalleled pleasure when he felt the walls of Sif’s pussy contracting once more but this time getting incredibly tighter, squeezing him hard as if it wasn’t her cunt he was ravaging with forceful strokes.

It was a crevice that hadn’t been fucked before.

_A new and virgin hole._

With his face buried in her long black hair he felt a thick rod growing between them, nudging eagerly against his abdomen with Sif’s hand squeezing around it, stroking it in time with his pounding, one little gasp for each thrust. Its wet swollen tip was making circles around his navel, poking in, smearing it with drops of precum.

Warning him he’d be the one getting fucked next time.

Thor moved to lift himself up but a hand pulled him back down, pushing his nose into his partner’s neck. The voice wasn’t that of a woman’s anymore; it was deep and hoarse with lust.

“J-just a little more, brother, just-” Loki stuttered through gasps and sighs, “just a - a little- _Oh._ Oh that’s- that’s it-… Fuck, Thor – fuck- _UH!…”_

Thor finally managed to free his head from that strong grasp and lift it just enough to gaze into his lover’s eyes: they weren’t hazel and almond-shaped like Sif’s anymore. They were blue and big as Asgard’s moons framed by impossibly long eyelashes, little pearls of tears shining in their corners matching soft whimpers of pain and pleasure. Indistinct words were escaping the familiar mouth in gasps and sobs, phrases like “fuck me”, “wreck me, brother”, “ruin me”, but only one clear word was consistently there finishing every dirty little sentence, tickling his ear with each encouraging push, each scratch on his back, each salacious bite on his shoulder.

_Thor._

_Thor-AH._

Fucking his own brother as he described every moment of his newly found anal pleasure drove the god of thunder over the edge.

Loki had him trapped and unprepared.

“I-I want you all inside me, brother, every- _AH-_ every inch of you _-oh Norns yes, yes keep doing that, oh –_ oh fuck,” Loki gasped scratching Thor’s back viciously, rubbing the length of his crack with his heels, pushing between his cheeks. “I want your hot cum - inside me - fuck, Thor, you’re so- _OH -_ you’re so big you’re so fucking– oh I’m gonna- I’m gonna- c- _uuuuh…”_

In one exquisite moment Thor felt Loki’s warm cum trickling down his navel as his brother fiercely grabbed his hips and probed his hole with his middle finger. In a single spasm Thor’s orgasm slammed into him leaving him breathless and defeated, his eyes flickering in abandonment as he emptied hot and unstoppable into his brother’s hole with a hateful groan. With two last thrusts he spurted all of his essence, all of _him_ inside Loki’s ass claiming him, possessing him, branding him, and Loki didn’t let him go before making sure every drop of his spend had been sucked by his stretched leaking hole.  

 

AH!

 

Ah.

 

_Aaaah._

By the time Thor opened his eyes again his hands were tugging fistfuls of short black hair as his lover panted hot and helpless against his sweaty skin, his sculpted abs wet and sticky with Loki’s cum, his manhood still buried deep inside his ass, throbbing against its walls, pulsing, pumping out every drop.

He viciously pulled at Loki’s raven locks when he realized he had changed back into his male form, keeping him still, hammering effortlessly into his puckered hole to tame him, dominate him, punish him for tricking the god of thunder into coming inside his own brother. Humiliate him if he could.

But there was no humiliation for Loki, only bliss and triumph.

Thor stopped moving and tried to catch his breath resting his lips on his brother’s forehead.

_-good this is good this is so g-_

He was still shaking with hot pleasure. “You really…” he breathed heavily, “you really made me do it, didn’t you…”

“You thought I wouldn’t?” Loki laughed in between shallow pants. “You needed much less… convincing than I thought. I’m impressed.”

“You fucking… bastard…” Thor replied with a breathless chuckle brushing his lips over Loki’s cheek and chiseled jawline, sucking and biting the tender spot in his sternum.

“For all my womanly charm you got that hard knowing it was me,” Loki bragged with a half smile as he brushed his fingers through Thor’s hair. “Admit it.”

“I’ll never forgive you for this…” Thor slurred burying his head in Loki’s hair. “I mean it,” he said planting soft lips on his neck.

 “I _hope_ you won’t,” Loki retorted smugly.  “If I’m going to Hel I’m taking you with me, brother. I’m taking you with me no matter where I go.”


	9. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a time for lies and there's a time for truths.  
> But this is not a good time for either.

Loki woke before Thor.

He didn’t realize where he was; all he knew was that it was warm and comfortable and dark, his body heavy with sweet exhaustion and hours of deep sleep - a sleep that hadn’t been so peaceful in centuries. No confusing dreams, no blackness, no restless whispers in his head seconds before waking up. Only sleep, long and serene and silent.

His senses awoke with each passing moment; he felt his brother’s broad chest heaving against his back, the hot rhythmic breathing on the nape of his neck, the heavy arm wrapped around his waist, enveloping him, holding on to him as if he was something precious, sacred, something that was too valuable to let go of even during sleep. As if he was life itself.

He was wondering if Thor had seen the same dream as him when he realized there was no need for dreams anymore. No more longing, no more waking up in sweat, no more lonely mornings.

Only blissful closeness.

Only his brother next to him with his warm earthy scent filling his nostrils, soothing him.

_Earth and sweat and happiness._

That was it.

That was all he ever wanted.

He hadn’t fully woken when the voices in his head returned, but they weren’t the persistent whispers his own conscience produced to pull him from the realm of dreams – they were his parents’ worrisome thoughts.

He had sensed his mother’s nervousness as she searched for him inside the palace for hours. Thor fucking sighs and moans and cries out of him had made him forget about her but now that his body was spent the nagging sensation had returned.

His father was looking for him too but Loki could only hear a distant humming, nothing more. He shut him out, centuries ago, when he was sent to a separate bedroom, so he didn’t really know if Odin was there with Frigga sharing her concern.

He just guessed he was.

He lifted his brother’s heavy arm to slip out of his embrace without waking him up. With smooth cat-like moves he put on his green tunic, coat and leather breeches and softly walked out of the room.

 

A guard informed Loki that the king and the queen of Asgard were waiting for him in the throne room, however Odin wasn’t sitting on his throne like he expected him to. He was standing next to Frigga who pulled her hand from his as soon as Loki walked into the hall, as if the Allfather needed his wife’s support for what he was about to announce.

“My son,” he said, “I’ve been waiting for years to have this talk with you. I know we should have done this long ago, tell you about your place in this family, about your past. And your future.”

Loki took a few uncertain steps towards his parents, shifting his inquisitive gaze from one face to the other. He could see Frigga’s eyes still wet and red although her smile was confident, happy.

_Why had she wept? What past was Odin talking about?_

“I’m here,” he muttered.

“All those centuries ago I told you and Thor that both of you were born to be kings even if only one of you could ascend to the throne of Asgard,” Odin began.

“I know that, Father,” Loki replied lowering his eyes, “I know Thor is your heir and he’s going to rule Asgard one day. He’s your first-born after all.”

Loki’s bitterness wasn’t lost on Odin who took a step closer to his son. “There’s another realm for you to rule,” he declared.

“…What do you mean?” Loki muttered creasing his brow.

“You must have heard the rumours, Loki,” Frigga intervened touching her husband’s forearm protectively, as if to stop him from making one false move, from saying one wrong word, “that you weren’t born inside the palace but on a frozen rock.”

“You had told me it was freezing cold the night you gave birth to me,” Loki remembered, “and your bed felt as hard as a rock. Leave it to the masses to turn facts into fiction.”

“There’s more to that, my son,” Frigga said, “it was indeed a rock your father found you on. An altar made of stone in a faraway realm.”

 _“Found_ me…?” Loki repeated holding his breath, seeking answers in Odin’s eyes.

“I found you in a temple in Jotunheim,” Odin explained. “They had left you on a rock to die. _He_ had left you, you were just too small and frail to be accepted as the king’s son. Laufey’s son.”

“Laufey…?”

“Thor told us about you,” Frigga continued, “your resistance to cold. You were both acting strange after you came back from your trip to the mountain cave so I asked him about it. At first he didn’t want to talk, he said he had no idea what was going on in your head. Then he told us something about a waterfall and how you didn’t feel the cold. We didn’t tell him what that meant because we wanted to tell you first, and now is the time.”

“Tell me what?” Loki breathed through dry lips.

He dreaded the words that were about to come out of his mother’s mouth. He dreaded his father’s determined expression.

 “We raised you as an Asgardian because you’re our son and we love you more than words can say,” Frigga said, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “But you…”

 “You’re a Frost Giant, my son,” Odin completed her sentence with a faint tremble in his voice, “and you were found the day I defeated Laufey and his army.”

“You deserve the throne as much your brother,” Frigga added. “But after the war Asgard’s laws wouldn’t allow a Jotun to rule Asgard. The Shadow Elders would never accept that and they’re the reason why we didn’t reveal your parentage all these years, they would have your own father strike Gungnir and unleash the Destroyer upon you. But you were always meant to be the ruler of your own people, Loki, and the Shadow Elders cannot touch you now that you’ll be king.”

“You mean…” Loki stammered, “I’m destined to rule Jotunheim?”

“King Laufey is terminally ill,” Odin said gravely. “He has been burning in fever for more than two weeks now. They say he was poisoned and he won’t live long. If he dies without a successor any usurper could take Rheingold from his hand, the royal ring that is bound to his blood by magic and can only be given to those of his own blood.”

The Allfather placed his hands on Loki’s shoulders making him shiver; he had never experienced such cold, as if he had a thousand Jotun winters thrust upon him.

 “You’re Laufey’s only surviving son and there’s going to be a civil war if you don’t claim the throne,” Odin warned him, “a throne that is rightfully yours. The war will affect not only Jotunheim but all the Nine Realms including Asgard. There’s no telling if echoes of the bloodbath that will ensue won’t reach us here.”

“You’re banishing me…” Loki’s voice trailed off as if he was talking to himself, his wide feverish eyes glued to the floor like crushed flowers drowning in the mud.

The happiness he had found in Thor’s arms just a few hours ago had been shattered; robbed in one horrible instant.

Frigga reached out to caress his cheek. “We’re offering you your rightful place on the throne of -”

“YOU’RE _BANISHING_ ME!...” Loki howled pulling away as he struggled to hold back tears of rage. “You’re telling me now that I’m a Frost Giant, that-that all those centuries ago you sneaked a Jotun baby into the palace, your enemy’s _son_ of all people. And… And you hid me from the world, _why?”_ He swallowed hard. “What was I to you – to _both_ of you? Why didn’t you tell me, mother? We never talked with father anyway, but _you?_ What’s your excuse?”

He was finding wicked pleasure seeing Frigga trembling, overwhelmed by his accusations.

“What was I, a-a hostage in a golden cage? I was a fucking _Jotun_ ,” he snarled pacing up and down like a captured wolf. “And why now, of all times? Why tell me now? Laufey’s dying, yes, but how do I know it wasn’t you, ‘Father’, sending your spies and your lackeys to poison him so that I would take his place when you saw fit, when I was getting too close and dangerous to… to your _precious heir?_ Because if you couldn’t control Jotunheim yourself you were sure to send your obedient son when the time came. It’s all so fucking convenient, isn’t it? So I’m asking you again. Why. _NOW?”_

“Loki, there’s no foul play behind Laufey’s illness, not from my part,” Odin reassured him but his single eye was telling of his growing fear. “Asgard would never interfere with Jotunheim’s politics.”

“Oh, of course not,” Loki scoffed with a cruel smile as tears ran down his cheeks, “you would never stoop to the level of scheming, would you? Waging war and genocide against a whole nation is closer to your tastes.”

Odin furrowed his brow faced with Loki’s new provocations. “I have nothing more to say, Loki,” he grunted. “That throne is your birthright just as Asgard’s throne belongs to Thor. He’ll be proclaimed ruler of the Aesir after you are handed Rheingold from Laufey himself.”

Loki threw him a brief glance, his lips stuttering a silent plea.

He was a frightened child again.

“I-I don’t want the throne, Father,” he stifled a sob looking at anything but Odin. “I don’t want their _fucking_ frozen throne…”   

Odin considered his son, his grief, the bitter tears he was trying to hide. After a few moments of torturous silence he finally spoke; his eyes were steely, bereft of emotion.

“Maybe you should visit Herja and her father, Skrymir,” he suggested. “You know him, he’s the Hnefatafl maker, they live by the river Ifing. He will explain things better to you, he will explain everything. And he told me Herja is ready.”

“Ready for what?...” Loki muttered numbly.

“To be your bride.”


	10. Skrymir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matchmaking time.

From the top of the hill Skrymir’s longhouse looked like an inseparable part of the landscape. It was a big imposing residence with walls made from cane and a roof covered in turf reaching the ground from both sides; the grass growing all over it made it look like a gigantic turtle that, wary from years of roaming the Nine Realms, had found refuge at the base of mount Preikestolen. It was a vast building that could house a large family of at least twenty souls but it was built between the hill and the wild river Ifing, indicating that its owner didn’t want to have anything to do with the rest of the arrogant Aesir and the coquettish Asynjur, sending a clear message that he was better left alone.

Loki pulled his fur cloak tighter around him as he felt the chill of an unprecedented winter creeping up his spine just by looking at that strange lonely house by the river. He rode down the hill and galloped towards the mill where he saw in the distance a familiar unruly mane of ginger hair blowing in the wind. Herja, who was milking a goat with a broken leg, heard the rider approaching and lifted her head, shading her eyes to see the visitor.

In an instant her emerald gaze went grey like the clouds in the sky heralding the rain. She disappeared into the longhouse and when she came back she was accompanied by a towering man with a fiery beard and the same wild green eyes as hers.

Loki remembered the redheaded man from his childhood waiting in a side room while he and Herja played. Although he used to think it was his young age and his own small stature that made him consider Herja’s father a giant, now he knew for certain Skrymir was truly massive. He was bigger than any Asgardian he had ever seen - bigger and stronger. His large calloused hands seemed fit to yield spears and axes and swords and shields, not just the chisels and gouges required for carving delicate chess pieces.

This was a man made for war, Loki realized, wearing peace’s hide.

When he finally reached the house he dismounted and tied his horse to an old ash tree.

“The second son of Odin,” Skrymir greeted him resting his hand on Herja’s freckled neck. “It’s been centuries.”

“It has,” Loki agreed coldly. “My father said we have a lot to talk about.” He had no time for small talk.

“Indeed we do,” the tall man agreed. “Come inside, _Odinson.”_

The longhouse looked even bigger on the inside. There were bear hides all over the floor. A large hearth was burning in the center and the air smelled of roasted fish and freshly carved wood.  On the table near the fire several planks were laid one upon the other next to chisels and unfinished Hnefatafl pawns. As the royal visitor entered the house, an enormous black cat, big as a panther, brushed over him demanding petting, his persistent purring as loud as a lion’s roar.

 Loki walked on furs and chips of wood before he sat on the table where Herja served him and her father steaming goat’s milk in horns with silver rimming.

“Unfortunately no apple wine here,” Skrymir snorted bearing his teeth.

“No need,” Loki said batting away the man’s fake politeness. “Another gulp of that golden piss everyone seems to be so fond of and I’ll throw up.”

“Har!” Skrymir cackled slapping Loki’s shoulder so hard that milk spurted out of his nostrils. “That’s Laufey’s boy alright. You don’t belong with those gilded pansies, son, you belong with us.”

 _“Us?”_ Loki raised a brow.

Skrymir put one hand on his knee, so huge that it looked like a trunk, and leaned towards the prince with a conspiratorial smile. “I believe your father told you about us.”

“No,” Loki answered. “No he didn’t. He and I… We don’t really talk. All he said was that I was a Jotun and that Herja was going to be my bride.”

“Of course,” Skrymir nodded. “Of course he did. Did he also tell you that she is your cousin?”

Loki took in a small sharp breath as he turned to Herja who flicked her big nervous eyes from him to her father.

“So he didn’t tell you. I guess he didn’t tell you my real name either,” Skrymir assumed puffing up like a rooster on a roof. “I’m Utgarthilocus, king Laufey’s brother and your uncle. But you can call me Utgard.”

Loki blinked in disbelief. “You cannot be him,” he muttered. “Utgard’s bones are in Odin’s Vault. He’s dead.”

“Ah yes, the blue bones legend,” Skrymir said with an amused snigger. “Odin was smart enough to let those rumours circulate all over the realm. He picked the dead body of one of his victims in Jotunheim and presented it as me. He always thought that my disguise as an Asgardian wasn’t enough, people needed proof of my death. And we all look the same to the Aesir, don’t we? Just another blue corpse to them.”

“Odin… brought you here?” Loki whispered as the last drop of blood was drained from his face.

“Aye,” Skrymir said. “Or rather… he let me live here. I fought hard during the war. I had a family to live for, my Herja, my older sons. My… wife.” His eyes fell heavy on the floor. “The Aesir soldiers chased our armies back to Jotunheim, keeping us hostages in our own homes. Slaughtering us in front of our doorsteps.” His gaze darkened with memories, his voice reduced to a deep monotonous growl. “By the time Odin’s soldiers captured me my family was dead. All but my little girl,” he said grasping Herja’s delicate hand. “Odin spared me and my daughter offering us a humble life away from the golden city of gods. I was good at hiding, disguising myself as an Asgardian, and I was good at making chess pawns. From then on I passed my days as Skrymir the Hnefatafl maker. The Allfather remembered I existed only when it was time to find his little boy a playing companion, the best Hnefatafl player in this realm. As luck would have it, Herja was a perfect match to your wit and talent in strategy - you see, I taught her myself. I had told her she would command Jotunheim’s armies one day so she’d better start practicing. I snuck into the palace’s library more than once disguised as a studious old man bringing her all the wisdom in the world. She may have read more books than you have, Laufeyson.”

“So why… why did Odin spare you?” Loki demanded as a light tremble washed over his lips, his nails digging deep marks on the table’s wooden surface. “You don’t sound like you’ve given up on your dreams to avenge Jotunheim, to reclaim what was yours - still, my father kept you safe all this time. What did you do? What did you give him in return?”

“Nothing,” Skrymir shrugged. “It was enough for him that his enemy’s brother was broken, defeated, at his mercy. What a triumph that was for Bor’s son, and what a tool for bargain if he ever needed it. Also I had a daughter, king Laufey’s niece. One word from Odin’s lips and she’d be the new queen of Jotunheim. A different kind of word and she’d be dead at his feet. He needed no other reassurance from me. We had nowhere else to go.”

“He had your sons killed but spared your daughter, the perfect match to Laufey’s heir,” Loki whispered to himself grabbing an unfinished wooden king from the Hnefatafl board, fiddling with it idly.  “He had it all planned out. She’s yet another pawn, like me, one more valuable hostage from the Land of the Blue Monsters...”

“Hey boy,” Skrymir said with an encouraging nod. “We’re alive, that’s all that matters - and so are you. Not all hope is lost. And don’t forget, underneath that disguise of yours your skin is blue, just like mine. Just like Herja’s.”

Loki regarded his long lost Jotun family for a few silent moments. The tiny wooden king was beginning to crack under his firm grip.

“Odin is using his biggest weapons against Jotunheim,” he said. “Laufey’s own family taking over the Jotun throne after he’s dead. Only that’s _Odin’s_ family now, his children, after we’re married. All the pawns were placed in the right positions from the start waiting for the enemy king to fall, and the Allfather was just biding his time. Now he won’t be only the king of Asgard, he’ll be the king of Jotunheim as well. But I’m not a pawn, Skrymir.” He glared at the giant crushing the wooden king between his fingers. “I won’t let any king decide who I am no matter how powerful he is, no matter how many pawns he controls. Not even my own father.”

Skrymir grabbed both his knees and jerked his head back with a roaring laughter. The huge cat that was sleeping on the bear hide on the floor lifted his head, startled.

“A king?” the giant guffawed grabbing another unfinished piece from the board, inspecting it from all sides. “In the great chessboard of life very few of us are kings, boy, and alas, your father is not one of them.” He placed the wooden figure on the table in front of Loki.  “Heed my words, Laufeyson, Odin is just a pawn like the rest of us, just as helpless and manipulated as this poor fellow here,” he remarked scratching the tiny figure’s helmet.

And curling his huge hairy fingers over its head, he flicked the pawn from the table.

 

***

 

The journey back to Asgard was long and ridden with ominous silence.

Herja didn’t dare ride next to Loki. His face was frightful, a perfect mask of stone. She kept staring at his dark fur cloak as she rode behind him until they reached the peak of Preikestolen.

Loki halted his horse at the edge of the cliff to gaze at the sun setting beyond the palace’s golden steeples and pinnacles. The glorious edifice was shining like a divine pipe organ, as ancient and splendid as the gods themselves, its watchtowers hovering above the city like clouds of weightless steel.

_The place they taught him to call home all his life._

Somewhere in those walls a restless soul was desperately searching for him, worried by the long hours of his absence, oblivious of the hard decisions Loki was about to make; the one person in his family that hadn’t shared the secret of his existence, the only one who hadn’t lied to him. In the yard, in the throne room, in one of those towers, his brother was waiting.

_His Thor._

His last hope.

What would he do if he knew? Would he stand up to Odin?

If Thor couldn’t smash his way out of their father’s arrangement no one else could.

Loki recalled a stanza from _The Vala’s Prophecy_ , a verse that somehow seemed painfully fitting.

_Bor and Bestla were wed on a bright Aesir day_

_And their sons had fair skin and blue eyes._

_Votan, Vili and Ve were the fathers of men_

_They ruled over the earth and the skies._

Was he destined to rule the earth and the skies with his cousin bride like Bor and Bestla had done thousands of years ago, or were they just puppets, pitiful shadows of those gods of myth, vilified Jotun outcasts condemned to reign over a desolated frozen rock?

 “Did you know?” he croaked, his voice dry and emotionless.

“What, Your Highness?”

“Did you know of my father’s plans to ship us off to Jotunheim?” he demanded, his eyes fixed on the last rays of sunshine slipping through the roofs and parapets of the golden heavenly city. “But of course, why else would you be invited to my brother’s birthday, the daughter of a humble Hnefatafl maker?” he sneered. “You had no place among the Asgardian elite that evening in the palace. Odin was grooming you to be my wife. Grooming us both.”

“I wasn’t keen on leaving my family here either, Your Highness…” Herja stated lowering her head. “But I had no choice.”

 _“I_ do,” Loki snarled. “There’s always a choice. To stay here, do nothing and watch Jotunheim go down in flames.” He pursed his lips, his eyes burning with hate. “Jotunheim is nothing to us. They took it from us when we were babes and now they want us to reclaim it.”

“This is bigger than us…” Herja muttered. “The fates of the realms-”

“The fates of the realms mean _nothing_ to me,” Loki spat. “You don’t understand,” he said turning to her for the first time since they left the house by the river, his feverish eyes wide and glistening like ponds of blue fathomless despair.

He was shaking.

“I’m not… leaving Asgard, Herja,” he stuttered, his voice fading into a whimper. “I’m not leaving _him.”_

The last rays of sunshine disappeared beyond the city’s rooftops; behind the pair and over the mountains the dark veils of the evening were filling the sky.

“Then Jotunheim is doomed,” Herja muttered.

Loki squeezed the reins so hard that his knuckles went stiff and white like rocks.

“There _is_ no Jotunheim,” he said eventually in a cold monotonous tone. “There’s only Thor.”

 

 

***

 

That morning Thor woke without Loki’s warmth on his cheek, without the faint titillating scent of his naked skin engulfing him.

For the first time in centuries he had a peaceful sleep, his awakening eager and hopeful as he fingered his hardness under the sheets. He longed to start the new day with Loki, _inside_ Loki, rediscover every inch of his brother’s body, every crevice, every depth. Taste him, take him, ride him wildly, repeatedly. Like he had done the night before, like he would do for many nights to come. Wake him up with caresses and kisses upon kisses and long swipes of his tongue in his most intimate parts; hold him down despite sleepy whimpers and protests of his untimely waking, fuck him loudly and intimately, fuck him in his sleep if he had to.

Instead he blindly caressed an empty pillow and brushed his hand over cold sheets.

He opened one eye whispering the beloved name.

Loki wasn’t there.

Thor left no stone unturned when he realized his brother had woken before him and took off without a note, without a word. When he searched the palace he was told that his father was having a meeting of grave importance with the Shadow Elders in the throne room and he was not to be disturbed; as for his mother, she had left with the ladies of the court to visit the poorer neighbourhoods of the city distributing food and medication. He asked the Warriors Three as well as every servant and kitchen boy and squire he came across but no one knew where Loki was. All they told him was that he rode off early in the morning.

By the time Thor heard hooves clacking on the cobbled yard it was already dark, Asgard’s moons curiously dim and pale as if eager to help Loki with his cruel hiding game.

Thor ran down the stairway that led to the courtyard where he discerned two horses in the light of the torches held up by the squires, but he only had eyes for the slender dark-haired figure in the fur coat.

The weary rider was dismounting when Thor uttered his name like a sacred oath.

“Loki…”

Loki turned, his soft lips parted, almost surprised to see Thor standing there, waiting for him. Worried, restless, anticipating.

 _Craving_.

The god of thunder stopped in his tracks just a few steps before reaching Loki’s horse; he wasn’t sure if the servants were ready to see him drowning his little brother in a hot embrace of desperate kisses and angry accusations.

_where were you-_

_how could you-_

_why did you leave-_

_all day-_

_all fucking day-_

_leaving me alone like this-_

_when I wanted you to be with-_

_when I_

_-wanted you_

When he got so close that he could see beads of sweat running down Loki’s temples he fought the urge to drink thirstily form the lips he had worshipped the previous night; the pain of not being able to touch that mouth in front of everyone ate at his soul.

He resisted; instead of a kiss he ran his fingers through soft black hair drawing his brother closer, resting his forehead against Loki’s to breathe in his scent, his warmth, his timid hitched breath.

“Where were you…” he whispered hotly against Loki’s mouth as he fondled the nape of his neck, claiming his dark locks with possessive fists. “Where the _fuck_ were you.”

Their lips barely touched. There would be no kissing in front of the Aesir that day, not before Loki became his advisor, his general, his consort.

His beloved.

“I had to go to Skrymir’s place, brother,” Loki answered grasping Thor’s forearms as if to stop him, brushing a discreet thumb over his rough knuckles. “I had to bring Herja with me.”

Thor let go of him and took a step back to regard the fiery-haired beauty, their childhood companion. She was covered in her black cloak, pale as the moons above them.

“What’s going on?” Thor asked casting her a wary look.

“May I present to you my cousin,” Loki muttered through tight lips as all light, all hope left his eyes. “And my future queen.”


	11. Seeds for thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two brothers.  
> Two ravens.  
> No plan.

The view from the palace’s tallest, most isolated tower was breathtaking but none of the Odinsons seemed to have eyes for it. They were sitting on the ledge with their backs on opposite sides of the window facing each other, wallowing in each other’s desperation. Loki had spent the last half hour listening to his brother lashing out, letting the words flow out like an angry unstoppable river.

Sometimes Thor’s grief was so unbearable that Loki would avert his eyes, sneaking glances at the golden rooftops underneath their feet as Huginn and Muninn pecked the remaining seeds from his palm. He didn’t talk, he had nothing to say - nothing those solemn stone walls hadn’t heard already.

 “There must be some way, some damnable way,” Thor growled shifting his feverish eyes as he rubbed his fingers nervously, “I don’t know, some… stupid crazy law that permits Jotuns to rule Asgard, I don’t know, I don’t fucking know!”

Huginn cocked his black head as if startled by Thor’s words.

 For Loki the curious raven was a welcome distraction. “What are you staring at, you feathered fool?” he murmured petting the raven’s head with his finger. “We’re being torn apart and there’s nothing you or Muninn can do about it. Or me for that matter.”

“You’re the clever one, Loki,” Thor insisted, his fidgety hands clasping his knees, _“you_ need to figure this out,

“Thor,” Loki said firmly, “listen to me. Even if there was a law that permits a Frost Giant to be the king of Asgard, after Laufey’s death Jotunheim will be in the brink of war seeing that he has no heirs but me. They need Laufey’s blood to rule them, Rheingold won’t accept anyone else and neither will they. Do you understand?”

“Then let them burn!” Thor roared, his eyes gleaming with wrath and despair.

Muninn croaked in protest fluttering his wings.

“We cannot do that, brother, you of all people should know that,” Loki muttered lowering his eyes. “It will affect us all.”

“You don’t know that,” Thor said. “As far as I know they could kill you in your sleep. They don’t know you, Loki, they’d never trust you, you were raised in riches by Odin himself, their greatest enemy. You’ll always be an Asgardian to them.”

“The Frost Giants may be sneaky bastards and ruthless conquerors who have plagued the Midgardians for millennia with their ice ages and deadly winters, but there’s one thing they respect and that’s Rheingold, the ring tied to Laufey’s blood.”

“And what of _my_ blood?” Thor pleaded. “You’re it. You’re in me, Loki, you were in me since the day you were brought to me. I cannot do this without you, I cannot… be a king without you. I don’t _want_ to.”

Loki widened his eyes overcome with the realization that Thor’s coronation was approaching as well. They were meant to be separated ever since they were brought together.

“Who will be your queen?” he asked.

Thor glared at him as if the question itself was trifle, untimely, improper. “I don’t know,” he groaned. “I don’t care. Does it matter? I only want you by my side, brother, I won’t have anyone else.”

“That’s… quite impossible now…” Loki said, disheartened.

Thor shook his weary head as dampness gathered at the corners of his eyes. “You promised you’d take me with you no matter where you went. Keep your promise, brother...”

Loki glanced at Thor with a pained expression.

He leaned over him taking his hand. “I’ll be there when you need me, Thor,” he said softly. “I’ll be at your coronation, by your side. Wasn’t that your biggest wish, the vision you projected to me in the Hall of Invocations?” he reminded Thor with a faint nostalgic smile. “I haven’t forgotten.”

He wished he was doing a better job convincing his brother for his own hopes had already vanished like the seeds in his palm.

Finding no more food Huginn and Munnin flew away.

Thor didn’t answer. He just took Loki’s hand to press it against his stiff lips and nodded as tears trickled down both their fingers.

 

 

***

 

“I knew I’d find you here,” a deep calm voice echoed through the library’s corridors.

The visitor’s steps were accompanied by the cawing of ravens that landed on the highest shelf underneath a stained glass window.

Loki snapped his book closed causing a cloud of dust to rise from its pages. “You know me all too well, don’t you…” he murmured indifferently licking his thumb to turn the page.

It was the day before he had to leave for Jotunheim. On such a morbid morning reading a random book was less of a waste of time than listening to whatever his father had to say.

“I’m here to talk, Loki,” Odin offered approaching him. “We haven’t talked in centuries.”

“You noticed? How delightful,” Loki quipped, his voice thick with contempt. He put his book back on the shelf and pulled another one. “Never too late to talk. Or is it?” He leaned back on the library to cross his legs, ignoring his father’s persistent stare, and licked his finger again.

“Will you let go of that book?” Odin demanded. “We can’t talk properly if you’re hiding behind those pages all the time.”

Loki closed the volume with a loud thud, put it back on the shelf and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.

The king opened his mouth but no words came out. Loki bared his teeth, amused by his father’s unusual awkwardness.

“I’m certain you have many questions,” Odin began. “I know the talk we had in the throne room with your mother wasn’t enough. I’m here to answer all your questions.”

Loki lowered his head to hide his grin as he hummed to himself. “Questions, questions, where do I begin…” He shifted his weight crossing the other leg.  “Let’s start with an easy one. If you were so afraid that the Shadow Elders would find out about me, why did you bring a Jotun girl to play with me? Why take that risk? I’m surprised she never told me, she never showed me her… true colours.”

“The spell that had transformed her into an Asgardian was too powerful and it could never be broken unless she went back to Jotunheim, drawing strength from the land. She was also advised not to tell you who you were until you were ready.” Odin opened his arms. “Don’t get me wrong, my son, I _wanted_ to tell you. So did your mother. We never thought hiding the truth from you was a good idea but the Shadow Elders were looming over us with spies all over the palace, watching our every step. They’re above the law and they’re above me and you know it. Maybe I don’t agree with their methods but if it wasn’t for their strictness Asgard’s rulers would soon turn into tyrants. I’m not a tyrant, Loki, I’m a king, I abide by the law and the Shadow Elders are here to make sure of that.”

There was agony and turmoil in his lone blue eye but to Loki that was just the dim light playing tricks, making Odin look forlorn and weary. Loki had no pity for him, after all he had made his bed ages ago.

He might as well lie in it.

“Life is more complicated than laws that leave no room for exceptions,” the king continued grimly. “And Asgard’s laws are cruel for a Jotun child being raised as an Asgardian prince. If the Shadow Elders knew who you were they would have…”

He paused and blinked. “They would have taken you from _me_ , Loki,” he confessed weakly. “They would have made me unleash the Destroyer, turn your little body into ashes.. _._ ” His voice trailed off.

Loki tried to ignore Odin’s heartbreak. “I can still turn into ashes now that the whole palace, the whole _Asgard_ is buzzing with the news of my coronation,” he remarked. “How are you protecting me now that the Shadow Elders know who I am?”

“You’re the dying Jotun king’s only direct heir. It would be foolish of them to dispose of such a great-”

“-pawn,” Loki interjected with a smirk.

“-ally. You’re not a pawn, Loki, I never saw you as one,” Odin said sternly. “I did everything in my power to protect you and this is why we brought Utgard’s daughter to you, in hopes that, growing up, your friendship might bloom into something more, something that would ease you to the knowledge of your true heritage without our interference. Something that would give you a good reason to return to Jotunheim one day, as king and queen. It was your birthright and you deserved a kingdom just like Thor but both me and your mother were wrong. One day you… You stopped wanting Herja’s company. You turned her away.”

“Do you remember what day that was, Father?” Loki flared gnashing his teeth as his eyes turned a blazing Jotun red.

“I…”

“It was the day you separated me from Thor,” he continued clenching his fists. “It was the day you had the servants show me to my new room. It was Thor’s birthday and we were planning to wake up together and open his early presents together in bed and fill his mattress with honey nut cake crumbs and what you did…” He took a deep shaky breath. “What you did was organize the biggest, most lavish banquet the palace had ever seen inviting all the Aesir and Vanir aristocracy, introducing Thor to his shiny new friends. To Sif. You deliberately tore us apart.” Loki’s chest was heaving now, his Jotun eyes a searing red fire shimmering in the library’s half-light. “I didn’t want friends, Father, I only wanted Thor. And you took him from me.”

“I’m sorry, my son,” Odin shook his head, his lips trembling with regret. “I-I didn’t know how much I was hurting you…”

Loki’s accusations kept striking Odin like the blows of an axe. “You used Herja because you hated how close I was getting to your only son - Norns forbid if the heir to the Asgardian throne ever loved and trusted a Frost Giant more than his own parents - and when that failed, you put us in separate bedchambers. You’re using Herja again to tear me and Thor apart. That’s all she ever was to you, a tool, a scythe to cut the bud before it grew. That’s what we _all_ are to you.”

Odin’s eyes went dark and scornful as he took a heavy threatening step towards his son. “Don’t you ever dare twist my words and intentions,” he slurred through gritted teeth raising a warning finger, his voice like distant rumbling. “Don’t you _dare._ Herja was meant to be your playing companion, your introduction to your heritage, your wife if the time came. You were a lonely child and I couldn’t bear to see you hiding in the library for weeks on end, reading all day when Thor was… When he wasn’t around, when he was supposed to be out training.”

“Oh you cared for my loneliness!” Loki scoffed raising his hands in the air with an incredulous grin. “At least you turned a blind eye on mother teaching me her magic otherwise I would be completely alone and redundant in this huge palace of thirty six bedchambers and tales of mighty warriors. Thank Valhalla mother taught me to build some confidence, work on those magic powers that you chose to ignore all these years. It’s ironic you know.  It was that same power of transformation that was so convenient to you, Allfather, when you were snatching me from my true parents. You should thank _me_ for saving you, I mean how could you possibly have brought a blue-skinned baby with red eyes to the Aesir? They would have had your head. Somehow in your infinite ignorance you saw the potential in me, in my shape-shifting abilities.”

 _“Your_ abilities, Loki?” Odin growled. “Your abilities? Your mother may have helped you reach your full potential but it was _my_ magic that changed you into an Asgardian when I found you on that altar, freezing, starving. _Dying_.”

“What despicable lies, you want to take credit for that too?” Loki lashed out. “It was me shape-shifting in order to survive, looking just like you, my ‘saviour’, as soon as you touched me-”

“It was MY. _POWERS!”_ Odin roared, his eyes burning like the eternal flames of Muspelheim. “I roamed the world in disguise gifting Midgardians wisdom long before you were born, boy. I knocked on doors taking the form of a Vala and learned the mystical arts of the Volva, arts forbidden to men. Know the truth, Loki, before you dare shower me with your childish delusions and lies.”

“I’m not lying!” Loki lashed out. “I’m-”

 _“THEN PERHAPS YOU WERE LIED TO!...”_ Odin’s glare struck him down as his booming voice echoed in the library causing his two startled ravens to fly off the top shelf. “It’s… It’s not wise for a future king to believe in lies.”

Loki flashed Odin with a wide resentful grin. “You’re one to talk about lies,” he sneered. “Perhaps we wouldn’t be here negotiating the validity of our truths if you had told me everything from the start, about you, about me. If we had _talked_. If you hadn’t taught me to yearn for the throne ever since I was a child.”

“It is a throne I’m offering you now,” Odin said coldly, “Jotunheim’s. It is your legacy. Accept it.”

This wasn’t a discussion anymore; it was just an order waiting to be executed. It was the king’s will.

A crown made of ice was weighing down on Loki’s head, a kingdom of eternal winter waiting to burden him until his last day. But that was not what he wanted, all he ever wanted was-

“Thor…” he whispered the beloved name blankly, like the forbidden prayer of a heretic, his eyes glued to the floor. “What are you going to do with him? Marry him off, like you’ll do with me?”

“We’ve already talked about it and he agrees with me. Every king needs his queen if he wants to rule a peaceful kingdom.”

“Because of heirs? Stability? Protecting Asgard from civil wars as you’re ‘protecting’ Jotunheim? Or do you just want him to _breed?”_ Loki spat his provocation. “Is that the only problem, is that all you care about? If breeding is your concern then I’ll gladly change into a-”

“No,” Odin barked with a forbidding gesture. “I want someone _wise_ for him, someone to be his equal, to talk some sense into him when he gets overtaken by passion and impulse. Someone who listens to reason, who thinks before taking a decision without getting swept away by emotion. Not someone who’s going to drown him with his love taking him down with him just because he’s too stubborn and selfish and blind to see what’s good for Thor. Lady Sif will be the perfect match for him, and Thor told me this is what he wants. Make your peace with it. He’d want you to.”

“Make my-”

Loki shook his head; when he rose again to face Odin his eyes were grey like a hurricane, restless, filled with despair.

“You have no idea what Thor wants,” he lamented smothering a sob. “You have no idea what I want. You don’t give a toss. All you care about is your wars and your conquests and pretending to be a wise all-seeing ruler while your fear of the Shadow Elders dictates your every move.”

He threw his father a disdainful glance; he wasn’t seeing a mighty god anymore, the lord of the Aesir, the Father of All. All he saw was an old fool, afraid of his own shadow.

“Skrymir was right,” he snarled, his relentless eyes like two shards of ice. “You’re not a king. You’re a _pawn.”_

He walked past Odin without so much as a glance and headed for the door. The Allfather watched him go, his forehead wrinkled in deep concern. Before his ravens even tried to settle back on his shoulders he dismissed them with an angry wave.

“Don’t turn your back on me, Loki,” he commanded, “we’re not done yet,”

Loki stopped.

Instead of turning he just stood there, facing the library’s exit.

“I promised I would answer all your questions today,” Odin said. “So I will. There’s a book I want you to read. All the answers are there.”

Loki kept his eyes stuck on the door.

“You have to _listen_ to me, Son, just this once,” the Allfather said, his voice fading into a plea. “If you don’t want to do it for me, do it for Thor.”

Loki threw a hateful glance at him. “Fuck your books,” he snapped. “Fuck them. They’re full of lies, _your_ lies, and by Utgard’s bones…” he said as he opened his arms in fake surrender. “…I’ve read them all!”

 

*** 

 

_Make your peace with it._

Odin’s stern words kept ringing in Loki’s ears as he rushed through halls and long corridors and bumped into guards and servants without a single word of apology. He had to see his brother. He had to listen to Thor himself talking about marriage and Sif and ‘peace’ to believe it.

_Peace._

He hated the word as he hated the man who uttered it; the warlord who failed to see its true meaning.

He found Thor in the courtyard sparring with Fandral.

The yellow-haired warrior in the fancy armour stopped as soon as he noticed Loki, stuck his spear to the ground and leaned over it with an amused smile. “Ah, the restless traveler,” he jeered. “Behold Asgard’s finest suitor.”

“Shut up, Fandral,” Loki snapped before turning to Thor. “Is it true?”

“What is?”

“That you’re marrying Sif.”

Thor glared at him. “As true as your marriage to Herja,” he murmured fiddling with a whetstone.

The simple light-hearted way Thor spat out those words pierced the god of mischief like an arrow through the heart.

“…Are you punishing me?” Loki said slitting his eyes. “I have no _choice.”_

“Well neither do I!” Thor howled.

Loki stared at him with eyes wide with agony, searching his brother’s face for a hint of complicity, a trace of a plan hidden behind raw facts and harsh words. A glimmer of hope.

But he found none.

“Do you give up just like that?” he goaded him. “I haven’t set foot on Jotunheim yet and you’ve already discussed this with Father without even telling me. I’m still _here!”_

Thor kept staring at the ground, his nostrils flaring.

 _“_ This is not you,” Loki shook his head incredulously, “this is not… us. _”_

“THERE IS NO _‘US’.”_

Thor threw a solemn glance at Fandral ordering him to leave them. The warrior pulled his spear from the dirt with a huff of contempt and walked towards a group of soldiers.

The god of thunder planted his feet to the ground, fists on his hips. “What do you want me to do, Loki? What? Dwell into the past, hug your clothes, cry in your sheets?”

“…The _past,”_ Loki took a sharp breath, his eyes stinging with fury. “How… dare you. How _dare_ you give up on me. How dare you not tell me right away about Father’s plans to marry you off? When were you going to tell me?”

“Marry me _off?”_ Thor guffawed raising his brows. “I’m going to rule Asgard, I can’t do this without a queen. It’s the law.”

Loki let his hands drop in defeat. “It’s as if I’m listening to father now,” he scorned Thor. “I just left the library to _not_ listen to him anymore.”

“Then maybe you should listen to him this time!” Thor lashed out.

Loki gaped in disbelief. “He kept us apart all these years and you’re _defending him?”_

“It wasn’t him,” Thor said roughly. “It was me.”

“What?...”

“It was me,” Thor repeated with stiff lips, his stare cold and merciless. “I knew this day would come, I knew they would never let us rule together.”

He blinked struggling to hold back the tears, shocked by his own effortless lie as he closed a determined fist around his spear. “I don’t need this heartbreak and neither do you. We’ll be kings very soon. It’s about time we both grew up.”

Loki’s chest was heaving, his lungs bursting with fury and pain. “You’re… sending me away,” he breathed.  “You cannot do this, you think it’s up to you? You think it will hurt less if you’re the one swinging the axe?”

“Loki, I’m not-”

“Fuck you, Thor,” Loki spat at him pushing him away with an angry thrust. “Fuck you both. You were always Odin’s disciple and you grew to be a coward just like him. So stay here and _be Odin.”_

“If you had any idea what it’s like to be me-”

“But I’m not you,” Loki shot back. “Thank Valhalla I’ll _never_ be you.”

He stormed across the courtyard through sparring soldiers and disappeared into the palace.

“Thor, are you done, shall we go back to our training?” Fandral said as soon as Loki was gone. “Let him get used to it. He’s getting a whole kingdom of his own and a queen, he shouldn’t be complaining.”

Thor glowered at him; without a word he hurled his spear to the ground and walked away.


	12. Jotunheim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki needs a plan.  
> He only has a friend.

“So this is it?” Loki asked, bemused.

“This is it,” Herja muttered, her lips pale as the snow surrounding them.

 Her journey back to Jotunheim had been nauseating. She was a little girl, shivering, shocked by the horrors of war when her father held her hand as they traveled through the Bifrost for the first time. It had been centuries since then but that memory was still like a fresh scar inside her.

They walked through glaciers and frozen lakes and canyons covered in snow until they reached a slope overlooking the valley, and in the middle of that valley rose Utgard, the multilevel city of the Frost Giants.

“Not much of a capital, is it?” Loki observed.

This was the end of their long trip, the wrecked capital of Jotunheim, a faint echo of its past glory; a grotesque assemblage of towers reaching the skies like an iceberg in an ocean of frozen mountaintops, a colossal termite nest buried in eternal snow. Its entrances were gaping open like mouths on skulls, the windows staring at the visitors through empty sockets.

“Is _that_ what we’re supposed to rule?” Loki snorted doubtfully, his breath turning into steam.

“Do you always ask so many questions when you’re visiting your future wife’s home?” Herja retorted as colour came back to her cheeks.

She drew a silver whistle from her sleeve and when she blew it six white wolves appeared from the top of the hill pulling a sledge. They stopped right in front of her as if she was their long lost mistress and she petted their heads before removing her leather gloves to feed them slices of venison.

“Babies…”

Loki blinked at her, vexed. “It’s my home too, remember? I’m Laufey’s son.”

 “True,” Herja agreed crushing ice in her palms to wash the blood from them. “But you were a babe when they took you. You never really set foot on Utgard’s holy ground until now to be able to judge her, you never got to see how magnificent she was before the war. I tell you, she was a thing of beauty.”

Loki considered the gigantic edifice, a broken city that was still trying to reach for the skies. “So you remember it? Living here, you remember how it was?”

“Only glimpses of memories,” Herja admitted wiping her hands on her furs, entranced by the sight of the place she once called home. “Shards of images, like a broken mirror. I was very young when the Allfather offered us a new home in Asgard’s wilderness, far from the Shadow Elders and their spies, but I do remember this place being cold and pure and beautiful. I could really breathe here. Do you recall our longhouse by the river? This valley here was full of buildings like it and so was the port.”

“You have a port?”

“Of course we have a port, there’s so much more to Jotunheim than its capital, we have everything,” she enthused before all joy was gone from her eyes. “Well… _had…”_

Loki studied her face; she was nothing like him, she missed the old Jotunheim. She had grown up with skis on her feet and her favourite game was sliding down snowy hills on sleds.

The god of mischief recalled his own games with Thor, hunting, mountain trips, swimming naked in lakes, finding snakes and naming them. Still, his last memory of his brother wasn’t equally kind. Thor’s bitter words were still gnawing at him, his betrayal a gaping wound.

All he could remember now was Thor giving up on him.

“I guess I’ll have to get used to this place…” he mused. “I have no other family to go to. Do you think you could get used to living here again?”

Herja turned to him slitting her eyes. “Do I have a choice?”

“You have the choice to own this place, make it grander than it ever was…” Loki muttered. “ _If_ people love you that is. Not that they would ever love me. My own father left me to die, I can’t even imagine what the rest of them would do to me.”

“Well, they used to love my father,” Herja shrugged. “There’s a reason they named the capital after him. I mean imagine, he built the palace, Utgardhall, with his own hands. He was quite the builder before we left, before he settled for a modest house by the river and decided he’d spend the rest of his life carving tiny chess pawns. But aren’t all Frost Giants master builders?”

“I wouldn’t know…” Loki shook his head absorbed by the sight of a massive avalanche falling from a cliff like white rain on the valley. “I thought you people were master _strategists.”_

“Oh no, not everyone,” Herja beamed and winked at him, a dimple teasing her freckled cheek. “Just me.”  

 

 

The wolves pulled the couple down the slope fast as the wind and ran tirelessly until they reached the city’s gate. The guards, expecting their arrival, let them inside the frozen palace. The pair walked through long circular corridors of ice and under ceilings of enormous stalactites.

The guards led them outside a big door and after they left Loki stood there, shivering.

“You’re not cold, are you?” Herja joked nudging him and let her furs slide down to her feet. “We’re Frost Giants. It takes only a few minutes for our bodies to adjust to extreme cold, to remember how persistent we are to temperatures deadly to every other creature in the Nine Realms. All it takes is setting one foot on this sacred land of eternal winter. _Home.”_

“I’m not cold, I’m _freezing,_ ” Loki retorted and the vapour from his hot breath turned to tiny icicles on his eyelashes and under his nose. “It’s not the cold, it’s this place, these… people.”

 _“Your_ people,” Herja corrected him. “Forget about your brother, Loki, you’re one of us now, you always were. You said it, you’re Laufey’s son.”

“Maybe…” Loki replied, distraught.

“Perhaps you should take your true appearance before we open this door and meet your father,” she suggested pulling out her glove. “Here, take my hand. We’re in the holy land of Jotunheim, we don’t need this spell anymore.”

She took his hand in hers and the blood in their veins turned cold. In mere seconds their skin took the dark shade of the ocean depths and their eyes shone red as their ancestral markings appeared on their faces.

“Feel better?” Herja chirped giving his hand an encouraging squeeze.

“No…” Loki muttered through frozen lips, their dark blue shade doing nothing to hide his grievance. He let the cold air fill his lungs; when he let it out slowly, it didn’t turn to steam anymore.

“Herja, I need you,” he said turning to her, for the first time looking deeply into her eyes. “I need your help, I have no one else. Please...”

 

 

***

 

Laufey’s chambers were built within the largest cave in Utgardhall and they were lit by candles and torches with blue flames hanging from the walls. The dying giant’s heavy breathing led the couple to his bed in the deepest end of the cave, where servant girls were wiping his feverish forehead with pieces of damp cloth. His rotting skin had already taken the pale blue shade of a lake on a winter morning, however he could hear his visitors approaching. When he opened his heavy eyes he saw the two surviving members of his slaughtered family standing at the feet of his bed.

“Leave us…” he ordered the servants who silently disappeared into a tunnel at the back of the cave.

He considered the faces of his visitors as his lips twisted in a disdainful smirk.

“So it’s true, you two survived the war. How clever of Odin,” he said shooting a glance at his niece. “This must be Herja Utgardsdottir, my traitor brother’s daughter. ’The Runt and the Traitor’, quite a royal couple you make,” he added with a dismissive huff.  “I guess I must call you ‘daughter’ now for the little time I have left in this world.”

He lifted his finger pointing at Loki. “And you must be my heir. Come closer, boy.”

The god of mischief threw a nervous glance at Herja. He was shivering.

 _“Loki,”_ she urged him caressing his arm. “Go on _.”_

 The prince of Asgard and future ruler of Jotunheim took his place next to Laufey.

The dying king took a few heavy breaths. “Loki… Is that the name they gave you?” he rasped as his breathing grew heavier. “The Allfather always had a thing for names. Do you know what it means?”

Loki shook his head.

“It means ‘destroyer’”, Laufey answered his own question. “It also means ‘broken’. One can be both I guess... Do you know of Ragnarok?” He raised his head to take a better look at his heir. “You must know, you’re an Asgardian.”

“I’m not an Asgardian,” Loki protested, “I’m a-”

“Yes you are,” Laufey said hoarsely as a terrifying smile pulled at the corners of his lips baring shark-like teeth. “You became an Asgardian the moment Odin took you from us. I guess he had his reasons, he knows about the inevitability of Ragnarok and that you’ll play a big part in his own destruction, _Asgard’s_ destruction. ‘The Twilight of the Gods’ and everything...”

Laufey coughed spraying drops of blue blood on the sheets. “You see, the Allfather is a bit of a seer, missing eye and all. Did he tell you he lost it because of me? Of course he did, he was always good at lying and pretending to be someone he was _not._ The truth is that he lost his eye to gain wisdom and foresight, so he knows about Ragnarok and he knows about you. He knows you will be their destroyer. But how well do _you_ know your ‘father’, Loki?”

“Not so well…” Loki muttered, his eyes glued on Laufey’s pale face. “We never really talked.”

“Do you take me for a fool?” Laufey cackled making Loki shudder. “You came in here showing off your ‘true nature’ to me with your blue skin and red eyes when I can see right through you, boy. You’re more Odin’s son than you will ever be mine. After all you know his tricks better than anyone else. A _coward’s tricks.”_

“I’m here to learn from you, father…” Loki said.

“There’s no -- there’s no time,” Laufey burst into a coughing fit so loud that had the servants rushing back in. He batted them away choking in his fist. “I thought of throwing you from the peak of the highest mountain the day you were born, boy. You were never meant for this throne and no ‘learning from me’ would do you any good, look at you, even a _woman_ would be a more fearsome ruler than you...” he snorted in contempt.

Herja’s face twitched at Laufey’s words but for all the searing red in her eyes not a single word slipped from her mouth.

“But here you are, my long-lost son, and I’m given no other choice but you,” Laufey grumbled lifting the back of his hand in front of Loki’s face where a golden ring twinkled in the torches’ blue light. “You know what this is. Rheingold, the ring of power. My legacy.”

“Odinsskam,” Loki whispered in awe. “Odin’s Shame. I’ve read about it, never knew I’d see it with my own eyes.”

Laufey removed it and put it on Loki’s finger. He closed his eyes to remember the oath and when he opened them again his grip around Loki’s wrist had tightened like a shackle.

“ _I, Laufey, King of the_ _Jötnar, pronounce you, blood of my blood, the one true ruler of Jotunheim and I hand you Rheingold of my own free will. You are now bound to this realm as you are bound to this ring, Asgard-bred, from this day until your last day.”_

Loki swallowed hard; the ring was scorching his flesh with its magical blue flame as the oath sealed their fates together. The pain was so excruciating that he bit his lip to the point of bleeding, hardly managing to stifle a whimper. The flame vanished but his burnt skin was driving him mad with pain.

Laufey fell back on his pillow, wheezing, grasping his chest. “I’m dying. You’d better leave. _Now.”_

Loki turned to Herja but she could be of no help to him anymore; tears were flooding her red eyes and spilling down her cheeks following the tracks of her ancestral branding. She rushed to Laufey’s side grabbing his arm. “Give us your blessing, father…” she begged, “you can’t die yet, you can’t…”

“My _blessing?”_ Laufey rasped before gushing more blood on the covers. “You have my curse, the both of you,” he spat wiping his mouth. “You lived a traitor’s life when you should have died with your brothers, Herja Skrymirsdottir, so my curse should suffice. Now get _out.”_


	13. The three sons of the ale maker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes nursery rhymes come handy.

Thor hadn’t been at the Bifrost to say goodbye to Loki with everyone else. He was still mad. His brother had no right to judge him for deciding to marry Sif, after all Loki was the first to do father’s bidding. Loki was Loki, he just wanted to make him feel bad about everything, like he always did. Thor swore he would suffer no more guilt trips from him.

Still, he couldn’t sleep; his own words were eating him away.

_There is no ‘us’._

The look on Loki’s face when Thor uttered that hateful phrase was keeping him awake night after night after night. Would he ever grow used to the guilt? But he didn’t want to get used to it. Pain was all he had left from Loki, and if pain was there to remind him of his brother then so be it.

That morning Loki and Herja returned from Jotunheim to attend Thor’s coronation that would take place the following day - “a king’s duty” as the new Jotun king stated- however he went straight to his chambers not allowing anyone to see him, not his parents, not his own brother. Thor thought of knocking off the guards and banging on the door until he forced Loki to unlock it, breaking it with his hammer if he had to.

His steps brought him outside the Jotun king’s chambers. He stared at the locked door for a few moments rehearsing a thousand different apologies in his head, wondering if the two Einherjar standing on each side would hold it against him if he broke their skulls with a single swing of his hammer.

But it was too late. He had done enough damage already.

With heavy steps he moved past the Einherjar.

He was half way down the stairs when he heard the door unlocking behind him. He lifted his head. Maybe not everything was lost.

“I guess I should be calling you brother now,” a steely voice was heard from the top of the staircase.

Thor turned. It wasn’t Loki. It was his brother’s future queen dressed in a white dress that sparkled like fresh mountain snow.

“Herja,” he called out running up the stairs. “I need your help. Loki won’t talk to me, he won’t talk to anyone. I need to see him.”

Herja searched his eyes. “Loki won’t see you…” she recited the order she was given like an obedient servant, “he says there’s nothing to talk about.”

Thor grasped her shoulders. “You have to let me in, you _have_ to convince him to meet me. I cannot do this alone, I cannot face the Shadow Elders and accept Asgard’s throne without my brother by my side.”

Herja’s lips twitched in a wicked smirk. “Were you there, Odinson, at the Bifrost, when your ‘beloved brother’ was leaving Asgard to accept Jotunheim’s throne?”

Thor let go of her shoulders, frowning. “I was a fool,” he admitted baffled by the girl’s newly acquired sarcasm. “I know he’s the king of Jotunheim now, bound by that damnable ring and maybe it’s too late, maybe there’s nothing we can do. But I’m not giving up on him. I still want him with me, I still want whatever he has to give even if it’s just a glance of approval, the tiniest nod of encouragement as the Shadow Elders place the feathered helmet on my head. Then I’ll let him go, I swear it to you, to the Norns, to our common ancestors Ymir and Audhumla. I’ll let him go, Herja, just tell him that.”

Herja placed her ruby-heavy hands on her hips tilting her head cheekily. “You want his love and support and you’re begging with _words_ when your actions speak differently,” she taunted Thor as her smile turned into a wicked grimace. “You know, during our trip to Jotunheim Loki told me all about you, ‘Asgard’s beloved golden heir’ and all that. How typical of you, to want his forgiveness only to rid you of your guilt, and don’t tell me that’s not the only reason why you want him at the coronation. Now you ask for a glance of approval? A nod of encouragement? Why, how modest of you.”

“That’s not true…”

 “Do not fret, he will be there,” she reassured Thor feasting on his despair, “but you can be honest with me, Odinson, you don’t _really_ need Loki there. After all you found yourself a new family, didn’t you?”

 _“_ A new family?...”

 “Are you not marrying Lady Sif a day after your coronation?” she quipped. “Or have you changed your plans of a glorious wedding?”

Thor’s eyes darkened as he pressed his lips tightly together. Was it too late, had his brother’s bitterness and manipulation poisoned the minds of everyone around him? Had war started between them? Maybe he had lost his brother already. Maybe he was left with no more allies, Herja certainly wasn’t one of them; she now belonged to Loki, and Loki belonged to her.

“I don’t blame him for losing his faith in Asgard’s laws and traditions,” Thor said gnashing his teeth, “but he might consider not losing his faith in _me._ I’m still his brother whether he likes it or not, and if he has forgotten, I haven’t.”

He turned on his heels and began walking down the stairs.

“Don’t tell him we talked, Herja,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t want him to know.”

 

 

***

 

The library was always a dreary place.

Silent, sober, half-lit. Ancient.

Not Thor’s kind of place. Devoid of hope or feeling, just mountains of books too thick to read. This wasn’t a hall fit for a warrior or a future king. Those pages were filled with knowledge he had no use for and its thick stone walls were blind to his suffering.

Yet there he was, in the one place in Asgard where he didn’t belong, sitting on one of its long tables, biting his nails through endless torturous thoughts.

Maybe it was a fond memory that had brought him back. Maybe this was the very table where Loki was studying when Thor urged him to join him on his mountain trip to Skarstind. It seemed as if it had been millennia since they slept under the stars giving names to snakes, beautiful lithe creatures they had gathered in a basket on their way to the mountain top.

Thor always loved snakes. He used to name them after kings and queens and constellations.

The night after their exhausting journey he had his first lewd dream with Loki, or maybe it was the first he remembered. For a long time he had forgotten all about it, he had buried it under a brick wall of duty and family values and Asgardian laws. But it was all coming back to him now, their first time, their first shared salacious vision; Loki on his knees eating him up with sweet moans like his life depended on it. Loki rubbing against him, Loki all around him with his hair, black as midnight, splayed out on the pillow as the room filled with soft cries.

Thor rubbed knuckles on his forehead to push away the taunting memory. Nostalgia didn’t become him. He was better off moving on, forgetting he had ever touched his beloved brother, forgetting the sweet sounds that escaped him when Thor made love to him, forgetting the small gasps and cries he swallowed hungrily as Loki sat on him with his long legs wrapped around his glutes, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders, a neglected hardness twitching, bouncing desperately against his stomach, longing to be touched, to be worked, to be squeezed empty as Thor jerked his hips and ploughed him open with a single long thrust.

A single gasp. A single cry.

_Norns._

He was better off forgetting that he had ever loved his brother. Love was irrelevant, nobody cared about love; certainly not the Shadow Elders, and not these dead books towering over him.

A few people had chosen this time of day to visit the library, a girl sitting on the table next to his, a man with a beard and a bald wrinkled bookworm with a pince-nez who walked past him carrying a stack of books. Thor had seen that old man occasionally when he and Loki were children, brought here by their teacher to study. He was also the sole visitor they had encountered the day they decided to climb Skarstind; he still had that sour expression on his face and deep root-like wrinkles around his mouth from shushing too much.

Thor hoped he wouldn’t be disturbed in his brooding solitude, the old library dweller had always been discreet and silent as a mouse. As if guessing his thoughts, the man sat two seats away from him and opened a huge volume bound in red leather.

“The first son of Odin, in a library?” he teased with a doubtful huff. “Ragnarok must be upon us.”

Thor winced; that particular day the man seemed to be dying for a chat.

 “Do I look to be in a jesting mood?” he groaned. “It _is_ the end of the world. The end of my world anyway…”

“Your coronation is tomorrow,” the man enthused. “Oh I do know that, good news spread through Asgard like wildfire, they even reached me in my lonely house by the river, can you believe it? But… you’re going be King and you’re not happy?” He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Youth is wasted on the young…”

“I don’t want to be king, not like that,” Thor growled. “I want my brother back.”

“Oh? And what would become of Jotunheim if you did get your brother back?” demanded the old man adjusting the pince-nez on his crooked nose. “What would become of Asgard?”

“I do not know…” Thor muttered scratching a nail on the table. “But I don’t know if sending my only brother to rule our enemies is a good idea either. To them he’s an Asgardian, he will always be an Asgardian. An _Odinson._ That will never change no matter what colour his skin is. He might be the smartest person I’ve ever known but without allies he’s vulnerable and I’d never forgive myself if anything ever happened to him because I just sat here, doing nothing.”

“Oh Norns, all this talk is so tedious,” the man yawned revealing his scarce rotten teeth. “I’m too old to take in the sorrow and remorse of a spoiled young prince who never had a real problem in his life.  Come, Your Highness, read a book, sing a song, isn’t that what monarchs do when they’re sad? I’m sure a song will do the trick, it will take your mind off your petty problems.”

“There’s no fucking book or song that could make me feel better right now…” Thor groaned spotting the thick sarcasm in the stranger’s voice.

“Oh I know just the song for the occasion.”

“This is a library, old man, they will kick us out,” Thor grumbled losing his patience.

“Come, repeat after me,” the stranger urged him clapping his hands, “it’s magic I tell you, nothing like a drinking song to soothe your pain, Your Highness…”

He cleared his throat and placed his hand on his chest before bursting into a ghastly sort of singing that sounded a lot like wailing.

 _“_ _All the valas are From Vidolf descended;_

_All wizards are Of Vilmeide's race;_

_All enchanters Are sons of Svarthofde;_

_All Jotuns have Ymir’s blue face.”_

At the end of the song the old man turned to Thor; not one muscle on the prince’s face had moved to form the slightest hint of a smile.

“What, you don’t know _The Vala’s Prophecy_?” the stranger rebuked him. “Tsk tsk tsk, did your nan teach you nothing? She must have been a lazy woman.”

“Do not speak of my nan like that…” Thor snarled.

“She must have taught you _something_ ,” mumbled the man scratching his chin. “Oh I know, how about _The Three Sons of the Ale Maker_? Strapping young thing like you, I’m sure you never missed singing that song at alehouses with your friends, pinching the bums of kitchen wenches, eh? Come come, I’m sure that song will cheer you up.”

“More verses? I have no use for verses right now.”

“But _The Three Sons of the Ale Maker_ is a very _very_ useful song,” the man insisted raising his brows emphatically. “Or do you not remember it at all? In that case you must read those verses as soon as possible. They might help you more than you think.”

Thor raised his head as the stranger’s carefree tone changed into an intense meaningful whisper.

“They will help me? How?”

 _“You’re_ the clever one, Thor,” the old man said in an oddly familiar voice, a mysterious grin spreading across his face as he disappeared into the depths of the library with a pile of books in his hands. _“You_ need to figure this out.”

 

***

 

When night fell Thor returned to his chambers with a huge red tome under his arm. He kicked the door open, then kicked it closed, reached the window and with his huge forearm he wiped the thick dust from his desk. When he was a boy Frigga had given it to him as a birthday present and many times he considered chopping it to splinters and using it as kindling for his hearth. It might have been useful that way.

He sat on the chair and flipped the book open to read its title.

_The Vala’s Prophecy._

“What did the old coot say…” he murmured. _“The Three Sons of the Ale Maker_ , what the Hel, what’s so special about this fucking poem…”

He began reading out loud.

 

_Audhumbla the cow licked cold stones to get fed_

_and her tongue turned the frost into skin_

_The white skin became man, and the man was named Bure_

_And he drew all his strength from within._

_Bure the Strong had a son, and the son was named Bor_

_and he made most delectable ale._

_Bor and Bolthorn drank ale on a cold Jotun night_

_And the daughter brought fresh roasted whale._

_“She’s so lovely,” said Bor, his hand on her blue cheek_

_“and her eyes gleam like rubies on fire.”_

_“You can marry her now for ten barrels of ale_

_You can save her from Jotunheim’s mire.”_

_Bor and Bestla were wed on a bright Aesir day_

_And their sons had fair skin and blue eyes._

_Votan, Vili and Ve were the fathers of men_

_They ruled over the earth and the skies._

Thor read the poem more than ten times drumming his fingers on the open page, his head heavy on his fist, before the letters started dancing under his fingers. He opened the window to get some fresh night air; nothing changed, the words kept bouncing up and down, mocking him, devoid of meaning. He read the poem once more, even hummed it as he tried to keep his eyes open. After a few more readings he rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly, sighing. There was nothing there; the old man had probably gone back to his house by the river laughing his ass off for pulling a prank on Odin’s first-born, making him lose his sleep over nonsense the night before his coronation.

            He fell asleep on the book drooling on its yellowed pages when something ancient and curious and feathery flew in from the open window.

            Muninn landed on the desk, cawing.

Thor jerked his head, startled by the unexpected visit. “Where’s Huginn?” he murmured. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping? What am I saying, it’s almost dawn…”

Indeed Asgard’s moons were beginning to fade away as the blue night melted into the radiant pink and orange brush strokes of sunrise.

Thor sat up and yawned, stretched his arms over his head and looked around to see if he had anything to feed the raven.

He realized he had to prepare for the coronation and was about to get up when the pain settled back in.

He had failed to make peace with Loki. He had lost his brother, his lover, everything that mattered to him, and the imminent coronation was nothing but a bleak ceremony, empty of hope or meaning.

“Can I fly away with you?” he asked Muninn with a sad smile. “I’d rather be a bird. Not so painful.”

The raven kept staring at him with his piercing bead-like eyes. Thor leaned over him reaching his beak with his nose. “I have no food for you, you know.”

Muninn made no move; he merely clicked his beak.

“Fine,” Thor exhaled narrowing his eyes. “You like poetry? Eat some poetry. I’ll have you suffer with me.”

He rubbed his temple trying to get rid of his throbbing headache and read the whole poem again until he reached the last stanza and realized that the bird seemed to have a preference for it.

_“Bor and Bestla were wed on a bright Aesir day_

_And their sons had fair skin and blue eyes._

_Votan, Vili and Ve were the fathers of men_

_They ruled over the earth and the skies.”_

Upon hearing the three names Muninn puffed up ruffling his feathers. “Wuotan!” he cawed.

“It’s Votan, you stupid bird, not Wuotan,” slurred Thor without taking his eyes off the book.

The bird refused to be silenced. “Wuotan,” he repeated. _“Wotan!”_

“Shut up, will you? I’m trying to concentrate and you’re not helping.”

 “Wodan!” Munnin screeched louder flapping his wings. “Wodan! Woden! Voden! Vuh-deeen.”

“V-” Thor’s voice trailed off. His jaw dropped as the real name struck him. “V… Voden,” he muttered to himself, his throat going dry. “Vo-den. _Vo-”_

He looked up whispering the name, his blank stare traveling beyond the rooftops that were bathing in the golden morning light.

Loki was right. His dear beloved brother was right, he _was_ an oaf, the answer had been there from the start.

It was all there, the origin of the Aesir, the origin of the Jotuns, and Votan’s real name hidden for aeons in dusty old books, in Nan Hilde’s innocent nursery rhymes.

Right under Thor’s nose.

Right under the watchful eyes of the Shadow Elders.

 

_Votan, Vili and Ve were the fathers of men._

Votan.

 

Woden.

 

 _Odin_.

 

Munnin flapped his wings and croaked heartily, filling Thor’s room with his crisp and terrible laughter.


	14. Gylfaginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor is late for his coronation.

The throne room was aglow with the light of two hundred torches and bursting with thousands of people, their faces beaming with anticipation as their enthusiastic whispers spread like waves. The proud Aesir and elegant Asynjur were clad in bright earthy colours as they waited for their future king, Odin’s first-born, to walk into the room in his ceremonial feathered helmet, his mighty hammer in hand. The future and glory of the Aesir, the keeper of peace of all the Nine Realms would soon take his rightful place among them.

The royal family was standing on both sides of Odins’ throne, the glorious Hlidskialf, as the Warriors Three with Lady Sif waited on the stairs below them. Herja Skrymirsdottir, Loki’s betrothed, was on her king’s side wearing a green velvet dress sewn with emeralds. Her fiery hair, woven into an elaborate braid, was pinned on top of her head letting a few scarce locks slide down her porcelain shoulders. Loki, nervous and pale beside her, wasn’t looking at anyone at all. He closed his eyes from time to time taking deep breaths as if trying to keep the noise out of his head and rubbed Rheingold repeatedly, perhaps seeking a magical way out of the crowded room. The more he inspected the skin around his ring the blacker the burning seemed; a hideous mark on his finger, sealed by a hideous oath. Whenever he seemed to lose heart Herja would give his arm a long encouraging stroke.

The loud clang of the Einherjar’s shields and spears announced the arrival of the fifty Shadow Elders who entered the great hall in their ceremonial white cloaks, polished armours and horned helmets. Curious murmurs encircled them as they walked through the crowd, unfamiliar as it was meeting such prestigious members of the Asgardian elite. Some of the Elders were older than Odin himself, some were visibly younger; some had scars from old wars and distant battlefields while others shrunk under the weight of watching entire civilizations being born, thrive and fall. The awed whispers faded out as people bowed to their prestigious judges who silently took their place on the elevated seats beside Hlidskialfl, not sharing one smile with the crowd or with each other.

Respect and fear accompanied Asgard’s solemn legislators whose sole purpose was to uphold the law and banish, even execute kings who dared abuse their power.

Or defy them.

Minutes dragged by as the guests anticipated the arrival of Odin’s successor; after an hour-long wait the entire hall was fuming, pulsing with restless whispers and murmurs of annoyance. The Warriors Three threw inquisitive glances at the royal family and at each other but they were met with Loki’s blank stares and Frigga’s growing worry; no one seemed to have any idea on Thor’s whereabouts.

The heavy oak door was finally opened by the Einherjar and the prince barged into the throne room squeezing a huge red volume against his chest. He was dressed in his regal attire, shining, with his crimson cloak waving behind him like a bloodied river after a fierce battle. His helmet remained tucked under his arm.

 “You are late, Thor Odinson, and you’re not wearing your ceremonial helmet,” a dark-bearded Elder observed, drumming his ringed fingers on his chair. “What are we to make of that?”

“My apologies, Sacred Jafnhar, but my bedtime reading got the best of me,” Thor replied clutching the book.

“Shall we begin then?” a lanky silver-haired judge said knitting his fingers together, his formal tone barely hiding a tinge of impatience. “Asgard is waiting to hail its new king.”

 _“Kings,”_ Thor corrected him. “Kings, my honourable Lord Thride. Because Asgard will see two of them today.”

“Two?” repeated the tallest, sturdiest among the Shadow Elders looking at his fellow judges under his horned helmet. “I see but one.”

“One stands before you, Sacred Harr, the other by the throne,” Thor gestured boldly towards his brother.

A tide of whispers and shocked gasps swept the great hall as the Elders shifted nervously in their seats throwing suspicious looks at the younger prince. Loki blinked as he rubbed his ring again, his shivering lips failing to form any coherent words. Herja squeezed his wrist; her eyes, lit with blazing green fire, remained fixed on Thor.

“What is the meaning of all this?” Lord Harr protested. “Asgard can have but one king. Two brother kings are unheard of.”

“We can rule Asgard jointly,” Thor suggested taking one step closer to the staircase where his family stood speechless.

“It is unheard of, unprecedented,” Lord Jafnhar objected stiffly as his gold-ridden fingers, resting on the carved arms of his chair, curled into fists.

“But not unlikely,” Thor interjected. “Not forbidden. There is no law against it.”

“My dear boy,” Lord Thride began, a condescending smile masking his building irritation, “there is no law against it as there is no law _supporting it.”_

“Absence of law and precedence does not rule out joint reign,” Thor insisted lifting a defiant chin. “Loki and I are brothers. Together we are stronger.”

The grey-haired Elder leaned over the arm of his seat to discuss with his fellow judges as the whole throne room held its breath. Thor’s eyes darted to his brother who was breathing heavily, his gaze glued on the floor as he refused to even return Thor’s glance. On his clenched fist Rheingold gave out a terrible glow.

Herja squeezed Loki’s wrist tighter, her red lips reduced to a tight slit as she glared down on Thor, her chest heaving like lava from a volcano about to erupt.

Those were not the reactions Thor expected to see.

Lord Thride turned back to him as his wrinkled lips twitched into a glimpse of a smile. “You talk of law, young man, when you know nothing of it,” he said dismissively. “It doesn’t take to be a prince _and_ Odin’s heir to know that Frost Giants are forbidden to sit on Asgard’s throne. Frost Giants like _your brother.”_

The unexpected revelation shook the Aesir crowd. A whole room of thousands stared at Loki as if they had just found a snake nest under their sheets.

“Since when?” Thor demanded, unyielding.

 _“Since the beginning of time,”_ Lord Thride roared springing to his feet, his fists shaking on his sides.

Thor’s smirk grew wider. “Not true. You change our laws as you change our history, my _honourable lords,”_ he said. “You let a half Jotun rule our sacred realm for centuries, even before this golden palace was built, so I don’t see how you cannot let my Jotun brother reign by my side.”

“A half Jotun?…”

A new wave of whispers washed over the throne room reaching the Shadow Elders as they searched each other’s faces, some of them shouting and cutting the air with angry gestures, some opening their arms to shrug in defeat as if they already knew what Thor was about to say.

With a knowing nod Thor opened the red book he had brought with him and licked his finger to turn the pages.

“May I present to you, my most honourable lords, a nursery rhyme, an inconspicuous children’s poem, the song to which my nan used to feed me, bathe me, lull me to sleep. A lullaby so innocent that even you, Oh Sacred Ones, didn’t bother altering in all your negationist fervour. May I present to you _The Vala’s Prophecy_ , and my most favourite part in it, _The Three Sons of the Ale Maker.”_

And with his thunderous voice Thor recited the poem that used to put him to sleep during childhood but had kept him awake the previous night, taunting him until the solution struck him with its simplicity.

_“Bure the Strong had a son, and the son was named Bor_

_and he made most delectable ale._

_Bor and Bolthorn drank ale on a cold Jotun night_

_And the daughter brought fresh roasted whale.”_

 

“So you see, my lords, my grandfather Bor met Bolthorn the Frost Giant _‘on a Jotun night’_ and they drank together.”

He continued.

_“She’s so lovely,” said Bor, his hand on her blue cheek_

_“and her eyes gleam like rubies on fire.”_

_“You can marry her now for ten barrels of ale_

_You can save her from Jotunheim’s mire.”_

“Blue skin, ruby-like eyes, the poem gets more and more explicit about the girl’s Jotun appearance. The girl was named Bestla, my own grandmother as it turns out. But there’s more.”

_“Bor and Bestla were wed on a bright Aesir day_

_And their sons had fair skin and blue eyes._

_Votan, Vili and Ve were the fathers of men_

_They ruled over the earth and the skies.”_

Thor snapped the book closed with a triumphant grin. “Now tell me, my lords and sacred judges, that Bestla’s half Jotun sons didn’t take after their Asgardian father thus looking nothing like Frost Giants, and that Votan is not an alternate pronunciation of _Odin.”_ He cocked his chin proudly. “I talk the All-Speak. I should know.”

 _“Liar”,_ a crisp whisper crackled in his ear like flint sparks. “S _omeone told you.”_

Flicking his eyes around Thor tried to spot who in that multitude of guests dared utter the accusation. The familiar numbness was pulling at his navel again like the day at the lake, as if the mental chord he had acquired not so long ago was being tugged fiercely, nagging him, demanding answers.

He knew that silent voice in his head all too well.

 

_Brother._

“That’s pure nonsense,” Lord Thride interrupted Thor’s thoughts. “It’s a silly poem, it proves nothing. Besides _The Vala’s Prophecy_ is just a bedtime story, it is not a history book.”

Thor froze upon hearing the Elder’s words as the throne room drowned in deafening laughter. He knew he was supposed to mention the Cursed Verses now, the forbidden history book _The Vala’s Prophecy_ was based on, but he couldn’t bring himself to remember its long and complicated name. Loki had mentioned it in the Hall of Invocations when he was teaching him to read minds but that was all he recalled.

That and the Vault it was locked in.

_Loki please the name the name_

He glanced at his brother who seemed just as lost as he was, his eyes empty, his lips white as a sheet.

_Loki please tell me the name of the book, the book you mentioned when we were playing that game sitting on the floor, when you were touching my hands, Gil… Gilv… Please Loki you MUST, Loki I don’t remember names like you, I can’t memorize whole books like you, you’re the genius please Loki I beg you-_

Thor squeezed his eyes shut as his mind sank into a whirlwind of confusion and despair.

And then the magic word struck him like lightning. One word, one mind, one soul.

 

_Gylfaginning, brother._

“GYLFAGINNING,” Thor boomed to the dumbfounded judges, mad with joy. “Gylfaginning, you fools, what are you staring at? You all know the Cursed Verses, don’t you? That book is locked in my father’s Vault, just like every other tool of propaganda and weapon of mass destruction we have gathered through the years. So what do you say, my lords and gracious legislators, shall we venture a search into the depths of the palace’s treasury to find out if Asgard had been ruled by a half Jotun all this time?”

The Shadow Elders stared at Thor with eyes like steel, not a single word escaping their stiff lips.

 

 

No one was ever allowed into the Vault, not even the Shadow Elders, and if anyone managed to trick the watchful Einherjar or overpower them, the Destroyer would creep out of the shadows to burn the reckless intruder. He would unleash his fiery breath even if Odin wasn’t there to strike Gungnir, his mighty spear, or so the legend went.

But rules and laws and legends didn’t apply on the god of thunder that day.

The guards, wary of his wrath, made way for the future king of Asgard when he ordered them to unlock the Vault’s door, and there was no trace of the steel giant when he moved swiftly down the treasury’s staircase; all that welcomed him in the depths of the palace was the dim light from the scarce torches and the quiet rustling of subterranean currents lapping against the pillars.

Thor stormed past the dwarf-made Gauntlet, the luminescent Casket of Ancient Winters, the Cube with its frightful blue glow and the hearth with the Eternal Flame to find himself in front of the biggest book he had ever seen, a volume bound in leather, black as the world before the gods were born.

With hasty fingers he traced the runes on its cover.

 _“Gylfaginning,_ The Fooling of Gylfi,” he murmured searching the book for the chapter that would either save both him and Loki or destroy them. _“The Lineages and Histories of the Æsir, the Vanir and the Jötnar,”_ he read turning on his heels with the book in his hands to find himself surrounded by shifting eyes and nervous whispers. 

They were all there; his mother, Loki, Herja and the Shadow Elders, all fifty of them, stirring, murmuring, fearing his next move. Only Odin stood strong among them, Gungnir in hand, with a blank face, bereft of emotion.

“Father,” said Thor. “Will you do us the honour of reading about your true parentage?”

“Odin!” Lord Thride commanded, “do not _dare_ touch that book! You’re only guarding it, it is not yours to read. You will not help him in this madness, we _forbid_ _it.”_

Odin turned to the old judge with eyes dark and unfathomable. “I will not stop him either,” he rasped. “Read it yourself, my son. You came this far, you deserve it. You deserve its truth.”

Thor gave his father a grateful nod and turned to the crucial page; everyone held their breaths as the Vault, silent as a crypt, let Thor’s deep baritone voice reach the very roots of Yggdrasil.

“Straightway after the frost dripped,” he read, “there sprang from it the cow called Audhumbla. She licked the salty ice-blocks and the first day there came forth a man who was named Bure. He was fair of feature, great and mighty. He begat a son called Bor, who wedded the woman named Bestla, daughter of Bölthorn the Frost Giant, and they had three sons: one was Odin, the second Vili, the third Vé. Odin is called in our speech Allfather, but in the Elder Ásgard he had twelve names. And this is my belief, that he, Odin, with his brothers, must be ruler of heaven and earth; so is that man called whom we know to be mightiest and most worthy of honor, and ye do well to let him be so called."

He closed the tome to give his father a bold look. “Odin Borson, Allfather, Lord of Hosts, Fulfiller of Wishes, this here book proves you are half Jotun from your mother’s side. You of all gods should know that the law against Frost Giants ruling Asgard should not exist. Maybe our honourable judges broke the law the moment they wrote it, a law that served as nothing more than hateful propaganda against our old enemies, and they let you reign even though you had Jotun blood in your veins. I’m guessing you were pardoned because you were deemed too powerful to not be Asgard’s king and their ally. Because they trusted you after you turned against your own kind, after you rained fire and blood upon Laufey’s army.”

 “The war with Jotunheim turned brother against brother,” Odin said grimly, “but the time had come for me to decide where I belonged,” he stated taking Frigga’s hand in his. “I chose Asgard.”

Gasps of awe and dread rose among the witnesses of Odin’s confession.

Thor beamed. “And I choose Loki,” he replied decisively. “If they trusted you, Father, if you ruled justly for so many centuries, so can he,” he said turning to his brother. “He is your son after all…”

Herja squeezed Loki’s arm possessively.

“This is madness…” Lord Harr elbowed hard his fellow legislators and pushed and shoved them until he reached Thor. “It’s too late, Odinson, Loki has already been handed Laufey’s ring,” he barked as triumph and madness danced together in his eyes. “See his scorched finger?” he pointed at Loki. “That’s his eternal oath. He’s bound to Jotunheim now and even we can’t break that spell because it’s _not ours to break.”_

Thor turned his haughty gaze upon him, measuring him. “Then I don’t want Asgard’s throne either,” he said defiantly.

He hurled his helmet at the judges’ feet, dropped Mjolnir on the floor and fell on his knees. “My father had to make a choice, and now it’s my turn,” he said opening his arms. “I choose Loki, and if I can’t rule Asgard with him I’m not ruling Asgard at all. You may do as you please with me, my honourable Lords. Banish me, execute me, I’m yours to judge.”

Frigga turned to Odin with wide pleading eyes. “Do not. _Let them,”_ she demanded stressing each syllable as the corners of her lips twisted in despair. “You fought tooth and nail to not let them have Loki all these years. You will _not_ let them have Thor now.”

Odin regarded his wife’s furious face.

“I lived in fear all my life, Odin Borson,” Frigga hissed through gritted teeth, her eyes shining with centuries of pain. “I don’t want fear anymore. I want my _sons.”_

The Allfather wrapped his fingers tightly around his spear. “Thor is in Thor’s hands now,” he muttered, resigned. “Not in mine.”

The legislators discussed Thor’s punishment as he stood on his knees in front of them, waiting for their decision, when Herja let go of Loki’s arm to walk towards him. She leaned over him with trembling lips and softly placed her hand on his cheek.

“Rise, Thor Odinson,” she breathed.

Thor lifted his head to meet her gaze and considered her numbly, failing to understand why she was there.

“Rise, to be Asgard’s king,” Herja urged him as a single tear ran down her freckled cheek.

Thor searched her face looking deep into her sea green eyes, unable to fathom what she meant by rushing to his side in front of the judges when a mere day before she was slapping him with words of hate and contempt. Was she mocking him now at the very moment of his doom? Was she pleased?

Or had she lost her mind?

And then he saw them; he saw her eyes.

They were blue as the morning sky.

Blue as the lake where Loki found him skipping stones, blue as their mother’s dress on his birthday not so long ago, blue as the otherworldly light coming from the waterfall when he and Loki explored the depths of the mountain.

_when he and Loki were happier._

_when he_

_and Loki_

Herja’s warm breath brushed over his forehead, her lips parting in a whisper soft as a prayer.

“Rise… brother…”

A veil of green light was lifted from her face and her freckled features melted away like snow in the sun revealing Loki’s raven black hair, his broad forehead, his aquiline nose. His eyes brimmed with tears as he hovered over Thor in his princely clothes, cupping his cheeks. Thor, gaping in shock, grasped Loki’s hands like a frightened blind man feeling his way in the dark only to pull them from his face, searching for answers. He twisted Loki’s wrist tracing the finger where Rheingold should have been, burnt into his skin for all eternity.

But Loki’s skin was clean. Untouched.

 “Where is Rheingold?” Thor demanded. “Where is the burn?”

“It was never there,” Loki replied as sobs fused with laughter in his heaving chest. “It was never there, brother. Laufey never put the ring on _my_ hand. He gave it to Herja. He just didn’t know.”

Thick tears ran down his cheeks and fell from his parted lips like drops of rain, like pearls sliding down the biggest, sweetest smile Thor had ever seen.

The god of thunder stood on his feet and let go of Loki’s hands only to grope his shoulders, his neck, his chest, searching his brother’s beloved features with growing disbelief.

“I still don’t understand… You’re not bound to Jotunheim? How is that even possible?”

Loki shook his head with a joyful sob. “Before I entered Laufey’s chambers with Herja I asked her to help me. She took my appearance and I took hers. Laufey handed her the ring while she was disguised as me, making her the new king of the Frost Giants.”

“The new _king!...”_ Thor repeated, baffled by the word.

“Herja is a king, yes,” Loki confirmed, “as good as any king, bred and trained to rule the Frost Giants. And she’s Laufey’s blood, just like me. The rightful king of Jotunheim.”

The brothers turned towards Utgard’s daughter, the real Herja. Her own disguise had melted away as she fidgeted with the ring in her finger, still wary of the huge responsibility that was thrust upon her shoulders when she decided to trick Laufey and defy all Asgardian and Jotun laws.

“Will the Frost Giants have her as their… king?” Thor asked.

“She loves Jotunheim more than I ever could,” Loki answered. “After all they have no choice, she’s bound to Rheingold and no one can take it from her, not even me. Only the blood that will be born after her, her own blood, her successor. The point is… I’m not leaving you, brother.”

Thor, dumbfounded, kept staring at Herja as Loki grabbed his cheeks and pulled him in a hot embrace, their lips crushing fiercely against each other, their hands content to fist and grope cloth and leather where there should be naked skin.

“I’m not leaving you, Thor,” Loki breathed hotly into his mouth, his fingertips sliding down Thor’s bearded jawline, “I’m not leaving you I’m not leaving you I’m not-”

 Thor claimed his brother’s mouth with ravenous joy stroking his arms, kneading into his ribs, squeezing the air out of him while shocked and terrified whispers encircled them.

Loki broke the kiss only to catch his breath, his blissful smile brushing over Thor’s mouth. “I told you I’d take you with me no matter where I go, brother,” he muttered kissing words into Thor’s moans and sighs. “You’re going to be Asgard’s king, _my_ king, whether you like it or not.”

That moment Thor realized what a fool he had been to not see through his brother’s tricks. The god of mischief and illusions was Herja in the snow white dress spitting insults at him in front of the Einherjar, asking about his wedding with Sif, questioning his love like a jealous lover. He was Herja in the throne room, waiting with feverish eyes for his next move, holding his breath while Thor revealed the truth about their father, fearing his own exhilarating joy would betray him as he clasped his impostor’s wrist.

At last they were free of laws, free of rings, free of destiny.

Free to be together.

Until a shrieking voice cut the air like a dagger.

“You read the Cursed Verses,” Lord Harr croaked pointing an accusing finger at the brothers who were still clinging to each other. “You dared disrespect us. You defied and ridiculed Asgard’s laws.” He turned to the Allfather. “Odin,” he commanded, “strike Gungnir. Unleash the Destroyer.”

The king didn’t make a single move.

“Odin!” Lord Harr barked. “Your spear!”

Frigga flicked her eyes nervously at her husband who stood in silence like a statue on a tomb.

 _“ODIN!!!”_ Lord Jafnhar howled. “You’re the king! Burn them!!!”

The Allfather flinched violently, blinking as if he had just woken from a bad dream; his gaze drifted from his sons hanging onto each other as they faced their end, then to his wife, to her quivering lips, to her eyes ridden with years of terror, then to the cold relentless faces of the Shadow Elders.

Lastly his good eye fell on the fateful spear in his hand.

In an instant that was destined to be immortalized in Asgard’s songs and tales, Odin Borson, the Allfather, the Lord of Hosts, the Fulfiller of Wishes fanned out his fingers and let Gungnir fall on the floor with a horrendous clang, so loud that it shook the palace’s foundations.

“As you can see I am no longer king,” he said sternly facing the fifty judges. “So you cannot ask this of me.”

Loki let out a deep sigh as he witnessed in awe the man who raised him standing up against the Shadow Elders. As he watched the pawn become a king.

For the first time in his life he was proud of his father.

Thor let go of Loki to pick up Gungnir. “Herja Skrymirsdottir will be Jotunheim’s ruler and Loki and I will reign over Asgard jointly,” he announced to the brooding legislators, squeezing a decisive fist around the spear. “I hope my brother and I will come to no more disagreements with you during our reign, my Lords.”

The god of mischief stood by his king as their parents, the Shadow Elders and Jotunheim’s king walked out of the Vault, some of them murmuring peacefully, others making angry remarks and others silently trying to process the unexpected turn of events.

Thor’s hand holding Gungnir reached out towards Loki. “I believe this is yours,” he nodded, hesitant at first, his smile growing more confident with each passing second.

Loki crossed his arms across his chest raising a cocky brow. “This is not the kind of spear I was planning to hold in my hands by the end of the day, dear brother…” he murmured giving Thor a pretty blush, making him burst into gurgling laughter.

“Am I good enough for you now?” the god of thunder teased taking Loki’s hand to hold it, warm it, worship every inch of it with devout lips, his radiant smile telling he already knew the answer.

“Fool,” Loki hummed, his voice fading into a mellow whisper. “What made you think you weren’t good enough for me?”

Thor pouted feigning a lover’s doubt. “Your hateful looks when we threw a bucket of cold water on your head? Your bitter words outside your chambers when you were disguised as Herja, when you thought I was still marrying Sif? When you _doubted_ me, thinking I didn’t have a plan?”

 _“Ah,”_ Loki remembered with an amused chuckle. “I can tell you enjoyed my tricks...”

“Will you have me?” Thor pleaded stroking Loki’s finger where Rheingold might have been - where another ring should be. “As your king?”

 “My sweetest Thor,” answered Loki, his eyes hungry for his brother’s mouth as he pictured the exquisite meal that awaited him after everyone was gone, when he could finally have Thor to himself. “I will have you any way I can. I will have you against your will if I must. Against _the wall_. I will have you writhing on your chest, biting down on your pillow to muffle your own screams as I force you open, as I honour your precious virginity with a long, hard lesson in humility. Oh I will have you in every possible way, brother, make no mistake.” His lips skimmed across Thor’s waiting mouth, teasing it. “In the filthiest, most delightful of ways.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TO BE CONCLUDED.


	15. The bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor is taking a well-deserved bath after a long and tiring day.  
> Soon enough his brother joins him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're coming straight from my tumblr post and you haven't read the rest of the fic, watch out for the first paragraph, it contains major spoilers.

Thor reckoned he could stay in that hot bath forever.

The violent rush of adrenaline was still pumping in his veins after a day of bold decisions and shocking revelations, burning him to exhaustion. He had recklessly ventured into the forbidden Vault risking an undignified end by the Destroyer’s fiery breath (the legend’s impact still haunting him like any ghost story), he had opposed Asgard’s ruthless legislators who had plagued his parents all their lives, he had exposed his own father as half Jotun in front of the good people of Asgard. Loki wasn’t even Loki, hiding under Herja’s garments, keeping his secret until the very last moment.

For all this madness, Asgard’s new apostate king was still alive.

His parents were alive.

His brother was alive.

Maybe what he did, what _they_ did, was a risk whose consequences were yet to be revealed and only time could tell if their defiance would be rewarded or punished. For now all he could do was let the heat and the scent overwhelm his senses.

He took a deep breath through the nostrils inviting the steam to fill his lungs with soothing herbs and settled lazily in the warm ceramic embrace of his bath, his arms sprawled out on turquoise tiles as he blindly groped for his horn of apple wine among vases filled with bath salts and vials of scented oil. He was still too stressed to think of tomorrow. The sleepless night he had spent trying to break the Ale Maker’s riddle had taken its toll on his nerves and now, as the herbs, the wine and the hot water softened his tense muscles, sleep seemed to be a most welcome companion; sleep was all he needed to finish the longest day of his life.

Or not.

“Care if I join you?” came the soft velvety voice from behind closed eyelids.

Thor opened his eyes to see his brother’s elegant shadow waiting on the doorway, draped in viridescent robes with a V-shaped neckline plunging down to his navel. His flaccid cock twitched between his thighs at the mere sight of Loki exposing so much skin for him to relish and devour.

 “You sure you can take the _heat?”_ he teased perking a suggestive brow.

Loki’s lip twitched, amused. “I see you acquired some wit, brother,” he commented dryly unlacing the belt of his green bathrobe to reveal milky white skin. “But this is not Jotunheim.”

“Thank Valhalla for that,” Thor huffed, “otherwise I wouldn’t be able to throw you _THIS_.” He grabbed a piece of burning coal from the hearth to hurl it at his brother.

Loki bent on the side as he dodged it with a graceful, almost bored jolt, grinning with delight. “Missed.”

Their laughter faded away as they shared a meaningful glance.

The bathrobe slid down Loki’s arms and hips. He kicked it away casually, letting the golden-haired god drink in his nakedness. Thor felt his cock harden beneath the bathwater watching his brother’s bare feet step lightly across the tiles.

“Move aside,” Loki urged him as if he was born to give him orders.

He bent the knee to dip the tips of his toes in the hot water, testing the temperature.

“What?” said Thor as he bucked his hips impertinently, his splayed knees welcoming the unexpected visitor with a splash, “there’s plenty of room.”

“Eager, aren’t we,” Loki quipped concealing his burning need with haughtiness.

 “Uh-huh…” Thor nodded entranced by his radiant nudity, his huge arms spread out on the tiles, ready to envelop him, his eyes dark with lust.

Loki’s foot found the step and with a content sigh he sunk into the steaming tub opposite Asgard’s new king. “This will not go the way you’re planning, dear brother,” he warned Thor as his lips formed a wicked grin.

“I’m literally dying to find out what that means,” Thor replied hiding a cocky smile behind the horn as he took another sip of apple wine.

“Oh you’ll find out soon enough,” Loki reassured him raising a foot to place it on his sculpted chest as his eyes trailed suggestively downwards.

“Sounds like a promise to me,” Thor mused stroking the length of Loki’s leg.

He spread his fingers over his thigh and then, with eyes that refused to look at anything but Loki, he sank his hand in the water searching for his growing hardness.

“M-more like a threat,” Loki corrected him with a pleased groan as his eyes flickered shut. “If you’re wise enough to _tuh-_ tell the differ- _ence -_ oh!… oh brother … oh brother _mine… Oh muh… Ah.”_

“Who said I was wise?” Thor murmured, his tongue darting out to wet flushed lips, his huge biceps pumping with fast repetitive moves as his hands worked fervently under the water.

Loki swallowed hard trying to pull from Thor’s touch but all he accomplished was anger him even more; Thor sank another hand in the water to massage his balls, groping them tenderly but firmly, keeping him still.

“I’m not done yet,” he rumbled.

Loki let his head fall back; his long arms, spread on both sides of the tub, squeezed the hard floor listlessly as he awarded Thor with low breathy moans. Humming his approval, the blond god scooted forward splashing water all around them and tugged roughly at Loki’s waist cocking it up until he had milky thighs draped around his hips. Without breaking the rhythm of his long elaborate strokes he searched for Loki’s hole fingering the rim, pushing in gently, probing the deep sensitive spot that would soon reduce the trickster to a wanting whimpering slut.

Loki squirmed with a choked gasp as he grasped the tub’s edges. “N-not like that,” he panted, his chest heaving in and out of the water.

With a push he slipped out of Thor’s grip and got on his feet sending a wash of hot water across the tub. His cock jolted close to his brother’s mouth, inviting him with impatient jerks against his cheeks, poking, searching his lips for an opening.

Thor gave Loki’s shaft a promising flat-tongued lick placing his hands on porcelain hips. “First, a question,” he suggested lifting his gaze to meet glazed eyes and half-open lips. “How long?”

“H-how long what?” Loki exhaled deeply as he fisted Thor’s hair, pulling him roughly against his hardness.

“How long have you wanted this? _Us._ Together, the way we should be.”

Loki took a pause. He surely had the answer ready but he meant to savour every detail of the exquisite scene, every moment of it, with all his senses - the intoxicating herbs, Thor’s slick warm hands kneading the meat of his thighs, blue eyes looking up, shining with love and lust. Soon enough the dark-haired prince of tricks and lies would be tasting his own brother, his _king,_ every crevice of his body, every depth; he would be drinking Thor’s moans as the spasms from their joint bodies shook the very columns of Valhalla.

Thor was still waiting for an answer. It was too early for a confession and Loki cursed himself for rushing things. He expected to savage Thor’s body before going soft on him with words of love and devotion but his brother always had that power, to bend him to his will even when he was about to be bent himself.

Loki parted his lips to take in a shaky breath. “…As long as I can remember myself…” he breathed.

Thor beamed. “Good,” he nodded, his eyes gleaming knowingly as he nuzzled along Loki’s throbbing cock. “Good good… Because I’ve wanted this _even longer.”_

“You never told me, we never really _tuh-_ talked…” Loki sighed gulping down hard as Thor’s tongue narrowed to flick over his dripping tip, pushing the thin and fragile foreskin up and down with thirsty laps.  

“How could we…” Thor sighed hotly over Loki’s balls, sucking on them, tonguing at the base of his cock. “Everyone was watching.”

“You’re full- _AH,”_ Loki gasped as Thor took his length into his greedy mouth in a single gulp, “you’re full of excuses, Thor…” He grabbed a fistful of golden hair driving his cock deeper into Thor’s silky wet throat. “Leading me on, having me long for you for as long as I can remember.”

“Not my fault if you chickened out when I invited you to swim with me in that hidden cave,” Thor answered as he dragged his lips down Loki’s girth, sliding his tongue over his perineum, twirling its hot wet tip into his slit **.**

“Oh,” Loki let out a ragged breath, “is that why you… _oh Norns…_ why you showered Sif with compliments the moment we… we returned?”

“That was to make you jealous, brother,” Thor wetted his lips at the sight of Loki’s glistening tip, peppering it with noisy little pecks. “For denying me that swim.”

“Oh is that right…” Loki said threading his fingers through Thor’s hair. “And  when I caught you fucking Sif, that was to make me jealous too, hmm?”

“I didn’t have you when I needed you, did I?” Thor said running his tongue over Loki’s thick veins.

“Convenient,” Loki huffed pushing Thor’s shoulders away.

It was a hard decision to deny Thor’s gentle ministrations but he wanted more. He knelt in front of him to wrap his fingers around the strong column of his neck, deepening their kiss. “I should have you flogged for that,” he purred over his shoulder.

Thor sucked in a gasp of fake surprise. “You haven’t even taken your kingly oaths yet and you’re giving orders already,” he teased reaching around to trace Loki’s crack with his middle finger, rubbing between the folds, working his finger in.

“I can do worse than that,” Loki answered clasping Thor’s face in his hands, attacking his mouth with fiery kisses.  “Much _much_ worse…” he added scraping his teeth over the plump flesh of his brother’s lip.

“You’re all words,” Thor taunted him. “That silver tongue of yours, is it any good beside talking?”

Loki slowly bared his teeth in a glowing predatory smile. “Shall we test that?”

He pushed Thor’s chest down until he had him spread out on the floor with his toes skimming the water lazily and he stood in the bath between his thighs.

“If you’re looking for the almond oil it’s right there, next to the soap,” Thor said before Loki could even open his mouth, pointing at the little purple bottle at the edge of the tub.

Loki arched a brow. “I see you made preparations to get ravaged tonight,” he commented dripping oil on Thor’s gaping crack, massaging its entrance with delicate fingers.

Thor heaved a sigh. “I-I never said I’d let you fuck me,” he objected weakly, “the oil is just to make your tongue slide better as you eat me ou – _oh…_ oh yes keep doing tha- oh _fuck.”_

“Is that right…” Loki murmured as he lowered his head to suck and lick Thor’s puckered opening, digging his fingers into his flesh to stretch him open. “I’ll have you change your mind when I’m done pleasuring your hole.”

Thor’s only answer came through husky satisfied grunts.

“Oh I’ll have you beg, dear brother,” Loki replied to Thor’s desperate sobs. “Make no mistake, I’ll have you beg like a whore.”

“Y-you won’t be the one doing the fucking toni- _uuuh...”_ Thor resisted arching his back, writhing and thrashing all over Loki’s drooling mouth as he let that curious tongue slip deeper into him, splitting him open.

Loki nuzzled into his crack with thirsty moans, his face slick with almond oil and spit, his tongue flicking at Thor’s entrance, lapping at his hole hungrily as he made throaty noises of approval at his taste and wetness. He kept up the swirling pressure on Thor’s hole, ravishing him with his hardened tongue, driving deeper into him until the thunder god’s surprised cries turned into feeble begging.

“Enough…” he rasped while Loki’s tireless tongue kept fucking into him. “I-I can’t… I can’t take this any longer, Loki, just… just do it already, just…”

Loki tipped his head to witness Thor letting go of the last traces of his pride with thumbs rubbing purposely along the crease of his thighs, avoiding his cock that was now filled to the brim and shaking with need.

“Do what?” he purred innocently, his tongue dragging circles around the leaking tip again and again until Thor was reduced to a mewling, disheveled mess. “Do what, brother?”

“Fuck me, Loki,” Thor groaned as his body writhed, aching for a quick release, “fuck me dry before I change my mind.”

Loki’s lip curled in a faint smile as he felt his own cock jerking with want. All those restless nights, all their shared wet dreams, all their lives had been building up to this moment; Thor was finally his to toy with, to subdue, to use to exhaustion.

He lifted Thor’s leg to place it on his shoulder kissing the meaty calf as he pressed his rod against the opening. He pushed into it with some hesitance, testing its tightness before deciding to pour more oil down Thor’s sack and massaging it with the heel of his palm. Thor indulged him with a soft and oh so gratifying moan pushing his lover’s hips with his heels, inviting him further in.

Loki knew he could never refuse him any favour.

He took a sharp breath placing his hands on both sides of Thor’s head and rocked hard into him. He felt the divine spasm sucking him in, Thor’s hole clenching around his hard-on as his own balls rubbed against perfectly round cheeks.

Thor reached to twist his nipple. “Do you like that, Loki?...” he cooed as his breath hitched with each violation, rubbing his own taut nipple with his free hand. “Do you like it… _brother?...”_

Loki groaned watching Thor’s need matching his own, desperate to slam into him with fast vicious thrusts, to make him drop his head back and cry out in pain.

Thor’s eyes fluttered shut with each push as Loki rotated his hips working his way into his irresistible heat, driving his cock so deep that the tightness was almost painful. A hoarse trembling sigh escaped Thor’s lips as Loki felt virgin walls tensing around him; he dug deeper into his brother, so deep that he could hear his balls slapping against Thor’s cheeks and pushed harder grinding his sack against his crack, stuffing him, longing to shove it all in if only anatomy allowed.

He thought he had hammered every word out of Thor, every shaky breath, every coherent thought when he felt strong fingers grasping his ass.

Thor’s voice came low and demanding. “Give me all your load, brother…” he growled darkly. “Give it to me, that’s-… that’s it… That’s…. _Ah.”_

Loki felt his own hole clutching as his eyes closed in sweet abandonment.

Not a single favour would his king be denied that night.

He impaled Thor with one long thrust, his climax unraveling deep in his groin as he pumped thick seed into his brother’s warmth. Thor’s hole clenched one last time milking him to the last drop, welcoming each brutal probe with little _mmm’s_ and _aaah’s_ of surrender. Until Thor was spilling too, his load trickling down his beautiful hard cock mixing with sweat and fragrances and soft orgasmic whimpers.

_“AH!”_

Crying out, Loki thought idly that he shouldn’t sound so surprised. He had imagined how heavenly Thor would feel squeezing the life out of him, he had known it from the start, from their first shared fantasies.

_“AH.”_

He let his head drop, strands of wet dark hair brushing over his brother’s chiseled stomach. Thor had emptied him completely - his body, his mind, the darkness of his soul.

“Ah…”

It was more of an affirmation now.

That lone syllable, the simple laconic acceptance of what they had just done.

The love, the need, the unstoppable force that kept them together.

Loki rocked his hips one last time shooting the rest of his seed into Thor’s ass, his eyes firmly shut, his jaw slacked open, holding onto his brother, his lover, as if their lives were about to end together, knowing they were bound to lose themselves if they ever lost each other.

 _“Aaaah…_ Oh Norns, Thor, oh Norns - oh..."

Thor kept grasping Loki’s ass, pulling him deeper into his tightness as they both panted sweet filthy words into each other’s mouth. Soon enough their bodies emptied and their minds drifted into that soothing post-climactic state where words were short and scarce and made no sense at all.

But even in the peak of his ecstasy Loki held onto the only words that mattered to him, never letting go of the deepest meaning of them.

“My love. My king. My Thor,” he kept breathing in Thor’s hair, bracketing his blond head with protective arms as he gradually went soft inside him.

The aftershocks receded like the calming tide leaving them breathless on top of each other on the wet turquoise floor. Loki littered Thor’s face with nips and kisses as he slid out of him carefully, relishing the hefty amount of cum he had filled him with, now dribbling on the tiles in thick white drops.

Thor cocked his head curiously resting on his elbows. “You really filled me up, didn’t you,” he commented in a casual cheerful manner as if praising Loki for bringing him breakfast in bed.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” Loki retorted giving Thor’s flaccid cock a loving full-mouthed gulp before letting it slip out with a popping sound. “It was a task long overdue.”

Thor gave him an appreciative chuckle. “How long has it been since you…”

“Since I what?” Loki said climbing out of the tub to grab a towel.

“Since you…” Thor’s voice trailed off as a flush of cute embarrassment rose to his cheeks. “Well you know… Since you wanted to-”

“Fuck you?”

“Well. Yes,” Thor shrugged getting a towel for himself as the blushing reached his ears.

“Since we started sleeping together in your bed, before Father decided we should have different chambers,” Loki replied wiping his torso with the linen cloth. “Since we started eating honey nut cakes on the sheets whenever it was your birthday and opening your first presents together. Remember that? We stopped when I moved to my own room.”

“Really?...” Thor said shoving a finger in his ear to let the water out. “So young.”

“Well I mean…” Loki stuttered toweling his hair, “that was the first time I thought about it, what it would be like to be you. To be _inside_ you.”

Thor awarded him with a reassuring smile. “I hope it was the way you expected it to be.”

Loki hummed happily rubbing his temple with the towel. “It was better.”

Thor approached him to wrap him in his strong warrior arms.

His lips tickled Loki’s ear. “Aaaand… when was the first time you jerked off?”

“Same age,” Loki confessed, blushing.

“Whoever were you thinking of?” Thor cooed nuzzling into his ear with the tip of his nose.

Loki pulled away with a wary smile. “You of course. How about you? Who were you thinking of when you first touched yourself?”

“Ummm…” Thor stalled searching for a fitting answer. “I… I honestly don’t remember!” he winced scratching his head.

Loki rolled his eyes, disappointed. “I knew it. I still hate you, you know.”

“Why…” Thor murmured lazily burying his face in Loki’s neck, his arms draping his brother in a warm possessive embrace.

“For not being sincere with me. All these years,” Loki slurred, his lips pulling down in a pout so intense that Thor felt it on his shoulder.

“Alright,” Thor said bending his head down to look straight into his brother’s doubtful soul. “Here’s me being sincere. I want to fuck you ‘til the day I die. I want to be fucked by you until Fenris swallows the moons and Surtur slashes all the Nine Worlds in half with his flaming sword. I want to fuck all the words out of you until you’re breathless. Until your lips have nothing more to say, until there’s only one word left in you, and that word is my name.”

Loki didn’t answer, his face was still a cold mask of uncertainty. Thor pulled him in his arms once more and slowly, surely, he felt the pout on his shoulder turning upwards, the frown melting away into a long series of loving pecks.

“You stole that from a book, didn’t you?” Loki muttered, his words, failing to sound harsh, gentling over Thor’s skin. “You’re cheating. I’m the scholar in the family, not you.”


End file.
